A Bitter Pill
by Mare43
Summary: AU story taking place after the model home fire. Luke and his friends face assault charges for beating Ryan. Injured Ryan/caring Cohen's.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.

 **A/N:** **In "The Model Home" episode, I remember the fire was ruled as accidental so no arson charges were filed. But I don't remember the assault committed against Ryan ever being addressed. It was three against one, if I remember correctly. Luke and his cohorts ganging up on Ryan with Ryan fighting back in self defense. I always felt everyone was more concerned with the model home being destroyed, and not much concern for a kid being beaten. I've decided to rewrite the aftermath of the fire and address the assault to hold Luke and his friends accountable.**

 **This story is** **AU** **and begins after Luke carries Ryan out of the burning building.** **And, as usual, I'm writing Kirsten a little differently than how she was portrayed in the first few episodes on the show. :-)**

Chapter One

"Who's idea was it to go running at friggin' eleven at night?"

"It's the only time I have free!"

"Hey Josh, slow down man..."

"What, you can't keep up, little brother? The marathon is only a couple of months away..."

"No, look. Over there!" the winded jogger huffs out, pointing over towards smoke billowing up into the night sky. "C'mon! Let's take a look!"

Running over to the burning building, Josh and his younger brother, Evan, see a man drop a body down onto the ground.

"Hey you!" Josh shouts, but the man immediately begins running away. "Hey, wait up! What the hell happened?"

Josh makes chase and gets a good look at the man. More like a young man... possibly a teen; tall, blond, athletic build. He watches as the young man ignores his plea and get into his truck to drive away, leaving a cloud of choking dust in the already smoke-filled air.

"Hey, Josh! Get over here, man!" Evan cries out. "There's a kid! He's hurt... he's hurt bad! I think he's unconscious!"

Josh races back over to his brother and kneels down next to the injured boy.

"Did you bring your phone?" Josh asks as he places his index and middle fingers against the boy's neck, searching for a pulse.

"Yeah," Evan replies, gazing down at the bruised and bloodied body.

"Call 911. We need the fire department and an ambulance," Josh instructs his brother.

 _What in the hell happened here?_

* * *

"Any word on Ryan? Kirsten asks, glancing up at her ragged-looking husband when he slowly walks into the kitchen. Neither one of them slept much worrying about the boy. Where could he have gone? Why did he run away? So many questions without any answers.

"Nothing yet," Sandy replies, trying to mask the disappointment in his voice but failing miserably as he makes his way over to the coffee maker. Sandy pours himself a cup of coffee and sighs. "I just don't understand... why would he run away?"

"Oh, my God..." Kirsten gasps.

"What?" Sandy asks.

Kirsten runs her index finger down the front page story in the newspaper, quickly scanning the article.

"This group home for teenage boys... we were going to send Ryan there..."

"Honey, what is it?" Sandy again asks, his voice now deep with concern.

"This group home... it's under criminal investigation," Kirsten says as she meticulously scans the article. "A fifteen-year-old boy committed suicide two days ago. He was found hanging in his room. He kept a journal."

Sandy sits down beside his wife and places his arm around her tense shoulder, needing to comfort her but also wanting to look at the article more closely himself.

"Now other boys are coming forward... sharing their stories." Kirsten's voice hitches slightly when she reads some of the personal accounts. "The group home is being investigated on abuse charges and the malicious punishment of a child..."

"This is the group home Ryan was at about nine months ago after Dawn was arrested for drunk driving and was sent to rehab," Sandy says as he scans the article. "The boy was there for about a month, if I remember correctly from the information in his file."

"The journal reveals that the boys were punished with beatings... whippings." Kirsten swallows in an attempt to alleviate the trembling in her voice. An unnerving chill creeps over her shoulders as she continues to read the article. "But in some cases, punishment came in the form of solitary confinement."

"Solitary confinement?" Sandy asks, knowing the barbaric disciplinary procedure is still used in state penitentiaries, but in a group home for troubled teens?

"The boy describes it in his journal... an old storm shelter with creaky wooden stairs leading down... now just a dark hole... a cold empty pit with a wooden hatch locked shut for days at a time." Kirsten swallows the lump in her throat as she wills herself to continue reading. "The boy was chained to the wall with no food or water. If it rained, it was a blessing..."

Sandy runs his hands over his tired, beleaguered face as he listens to his wife read further.

"Here's a quote from the boy's journal:"

 _"June 16, 2003: I had been in the pit for over two days and was beginning to think they forgot about me. I remembered drops of rain seeping through the open slats of wood, falling onto my face. Was God watching out for me? Rain in southern California... in June? I didn't argue. I just opened my parched mouth and welcomed the relief."_

Kirsten quickly blinks away an errant tear from her eye, thinking about what the boy endured... wondering if he had a mother or father who even cared.

Sandy senses his wife's despair. "It's not a perfect system," Sandy says, having his own knowledge of the horrific things people seem to be able to do to others. "They do background checks on people who want to foster children, but if someone doesn't have an arrest record they can easily slip through the cracks."

"Do you think Ryan experienced anything like this?" Kirsten asks.

"I don't know, honey," Sandy replies solemnly. "I honestly don't know."

 _And I don't blame you kid... for running away._

"How could something like this happen, Sandy?" Kirsten asks. "They're just kids."

Suddenly the phone rings, jostling both parents from their troubling thoughts.

"Hello?" Sandy answers tentatively, praying it's not another nosy Newpsie wondering if their precious child is safe with a juvenile delinquent living in their midst.

 _"Mr. Cohen, it's Sheriff Hicks. I just wanted to let you know we've found Ryan Atwood."_

"Ryan... you found him? Is he alright? Where is he?" Sandy blurts out all at once.

 _"He's been brought to HOAG. There was a fire. It appears the boy has been beaten..."_

"Beaten?" Sandy inquires with deep concern.

"Sandy? What is it? Is it Ryan?" Kirsten asks, somewhat surprised by her concern for the boy's welfare.

"Ryan's in the hospital," Sandy says as he snatches up his cell phone and grabs his jacket.

"He's in the hospital?" Kirsten asks as she frantically grabs her purse and makes her way into the foyer.

"Seth! Ryan's been found!" Sandy yells up the stairs.

Seth comes hurtling down the stairs, almost crashing into his father. "Ryan's been found, huh?" Seth asks, wondering how his friend could have been discovered in such a great, ingenious hideout as his grandfather's temporarily sidelined construction project.

"Yes, he has," Sandy states, holding the front door open for his wife and son.

 _And I just pray to God he's going to be alright..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.

 **A/N:** **This story is AU and begins after Luke carries Ryan out of the burning building.**

 **Also, please keep in mind I'm writing Kirsten differently than how she was portrayed on the show. This includes her treatment of Ryan. :-)**

 **I had originally planned for this story to be a one-shot, but then realized it was going to take a few more chapters to cover everything I want to write. Thank you for all the feedback and support. I really appreciate it!**

Chapter Two

Sandy rushes into the ER with Kirsten and Seth following closely behind. He makes a beeline up to the front desk, his mind racing with a million questions running through his head.

 _How bad is he hurt? He was beaten... did he get into a fight? With who? Why? Where was he? A fire... there was a fire..._

"Hi, we're here to see Ryan Atwood," Sandy tells the receptionist with a winded breath.

"Are you family?"

"No, I'm Ryan's lawyer," Sandy explains.

The receptionist cocks an eyebrow in question, wondering why the boy has a lawyer coming for him and not a parent or guardian.

"I'll let the doctor know you're here."

"Mr. Cohen!"

Sandy turns around a sees Sheriff Ray Hicks briskly walking towards them. A tall man standing at six foot two, the forty-five year old's lanky but fit frame graces his uniform with a strong, yet approachable, presence.

"Sheriff, what happened?" Sandy immediately asks, deciding to skip all pleasantries and get straight to the point. "You said Ryan was beaten and there was a fire?"

"Two joggers found him unconscious outside a burning building," Ray Hicks explains calmly.

"Where?" Kirsten inquires.

"It was a model home in the new subdivision owned by the Newport Group."

"Oh my god," Kirsten gasps. "That's my father's property..."

"I don't understand," Sandy says, confused with this new information. "How could... why was Ryan there?"

Sheriff Hicks glances over at Seth and notices the teenager first look away before peering down at the floor, trying his best to look nonchalant. With twenty plus years experience in law enforcement, he can easily sense when someone is hiding something.

"Maybe your son would like to shed some light on this matter," Ray says, looking directly at Seth.

"Seth?" both Sandy and Kirsten say in unison before Sandy adds, "Do you know something about this?"

"Well... um... you see... um..."

"Spit it out, Seth!" Sandy orders. "This is not the time for you to suddenly be at a loss for words."

"He was going to run away, Dad. To Texas, or something like that," Seth explains defensively. "So I came up with this plan..."

"To hide him in your grandfather's construction project?" Sandy asks, clearly angry with his son. "Do you have any idea..."

"You and mom were going to send him to a group home!" Seth interrupts, wanting to turn the tables and place blame on his parents. "What else was I supposed to do!"

"You knew we were looking for him. You knew your mother and I were worried..."

"That's bullshit! You were going to send him away..."

"Hey, watch your mouth!" Sandy scolds, pointing his finger at his son. "Ryan may have to go back to juvie now because of this. He was trespassing on private property."

"Well then, I guess you'll have to send me and Marissa along with him because we were all trespassing," Seth states defiantly.

"You and Marissa are not on probation," Sandy says, willing himself to calm down. Anger isn't helping the situation and it certainly won't help Ryan. "You're officially grounded for the rest of the summer."

"But Dad..."

"Sheriff, do you know how the fire got started?" Kirsten asks, cutting off her son's whining. She can only assume it was an accident. Why would the boy purposely set the model home on fire when it was his hiding place; his shelter...

 _His safe haven from that horrific group home we were going to send him to..._

"The arson investigator is still going over the scene, but he's pretty certain the fire was an accident," Ray explains. "There were numerous candles found, the decorative type. We believe Ryan was using them for light during the evening hours."

"Decorative candles?" Sandy inquires, wondering how Ryan came into acquiring such items. He would have believed camping lanterns, but candles?

"Marissa brought Ryan the candles," Seth says, remembering he accompanied her on a supply run to _Bed, Bath and Beyond_. "She also brought him toilet paper and a loofah."

"Marissa brought Ryan a loofah?" Kirsten asks with a perplexed look on her face.

"That's the exact same look Ryan gave her," Seth states, remembering how much fun the three of them had hanging out together.

"How do you know Ryan was beaten and not injured while trying to get out of the building," Sandy inquires, having heard enough about candles and loofahs.

"His injuries are not consistent with just fleeing a burning building," Ray explains. "Plus, the joggers saw someone actually drop Ryan on the ground before fleeing..."

"Wait a minute," Sandy interrupts, wanting to fully grasp what happened. "There was someone else there?"

"Yes, and someone strong enough to carry an unconscious body out of a burning building," Ray says. "One of the joggers gave a somewhat vague description; young male, tall with possibly blond hair. It was dark and smoky from the fire, but he did get the license plate number on the truck. 'H2OPOLO'. God, I love vanity plates. We're running a match now."

"That's Luke's truck," Seth chimes in.

"Luke?" Ray asks, taking out his notepad and pen to write down the name.

"Luke Ward. Captain of the water polo team, colossal jerk and major douchebag..."

"Seth, language," Kirsten admonishes.

"What! It's true!"

"What can you tell me about this 'Luke Ward'," Ray asks, "besides his apparent personality flaws."

"He's Marissa's boyfriend..."

"Marissa?" Ray asks, jotting down the name. "The same girl who supplied the candles?"

"Marissa Cooper," Kirsten says. "She lives next door to us."

"Luke is super jealous of Ryan... thinks he's trying to steal Marissa away from him," Seth adds.

"Jealous enough to want to hurt Ryan?" Ray asks, intrigued with this new information.

"It's clear Marissa has the 'hots' for Ryan," Seth explains to the sheriff. "So yeah, Luke can be a real neanderthal... no disrespect to the Neanderthal."

"Mr. and Mrs. Cohen, would it be alright if I talk a little more with Seth?" Ray asks. "It looks like it might still be a few more hours before I'll be able to get an official statement from Ryan."

"Of course," Sandy says. "Seth, go with the sheriff and answer his questions... honestly," Sandy states, accentuating the word "honestly".

"Sure, Dad..."

"Then take a seat in the waiting room and don't budge an inch. Your mother and I will come get you after we speak with the doctor."

Sandy and Kirsten watch Seth walk away with the sheriff, then glance around the area impatiently, both anxious to speak with the doctor in charge.

"Hello, I was told you're here for Ryan Atwood?"

Sandy and Kirsten both turn around and see a young ER doctor, looking tired and haggard from a long night shift.

"Yes, I'm Sandy Cohen," Sandy says as he shakes the man's hand. "And, this is my wife, Kirsten."

"I'm Dr. Neal Benson. I'm the attending. Why don't we find a more private place to talk. Follow me."

Sandy and Kirsten anxiously follow the doctor down the long corridor, stopping outside a room with a closed curtain.

"How is he, doctor?" Sandy asks. "Is he going to be alright?"

"Ryan has minor smoke inhalation and bruising on his face and body," Dr. Benson explains. "The paramedics said he regained consciousness in the ambulance but naturally, he was confused and disoriented. I ran a head CT scan and it showed a minor concussion. X-rays showed no broken bones, but his rib cage is severely bruised."

"Oh my god..." Kirsten gasps under her breath.

"There's some bruising on his lower body as well, which indicates he was most likely kicked, and the bruising on his hands and forearms appear to be defensive injuries," Neal continues. "There was also a small puncture wound, possibly from a nail, and large scrapes and splinters on his lower back. He probably fell backwards into construction debris. Not sure how else he could have gotten those injuries."

Dr. Benson opens the small file he started on Ryan and quickly scans it, making sure he hasn't missed anything.

"We're giving him oxygen via a nasal cannula and keeping him comfortable. In these cases of smoke inhalation, even minor cases, carbon monoxide is usually always present, so Ryan may suffer from headaches, nausea and vomiting. I couldn't find any medical records here in our system on the boy..."

"Ryan is from Chino," Sandy clarifies.

"Ah, that explains it. I'll contact the hospital there right away. I went ahead and gave Ryan a tetanus shot just to be on the safe side. Do you folks know, by any chance, if Ryan has any allergies?"

"None that we're aware of," Sandy replies.

"I'll keep Ryan here under observation for the rest of the day. But I've been informed that, because Ryan is in violation of his probation, he'll be transferred over to the infirmary at juvenile hall," Dr. Benson explains. "Is there any chance a parent or family member will come for him and take responsibility..."

"No, his father and brother are in prison and his mother is AWOL," Sandy interrupts, frustrated with the situation.

"I see... that's a shame..."

"Can we see him now?" Kirsten asks, anxious to see the boy.

"Of course," Neal says as he pulls the curtain aside, allowing the parents to step into the small room. "We gave Ryan a mild sedative because, as you can imagine, it's extremely painful for him to cough with his bruised ribs. When he does wake up, try to keep him calm. And, don't be alarmed when he speaks. His voice will be a little raspy and hoarse from the smoke inhalation."

"Thank you, Dr. Benson," Sandy says earnestly, before turning his attention over to Ryan.

Kirsten slowly walks over and sits down in the chair next to Ryan's bedside. With a heavy heart, she studies the sleeping boy and realizes that, although she hasn't known him for very long, she's never seen him without bruises on his face. She gently places her hand on his right forearm, careful not to disturb the IV. Glancing down at the boy's bruised hand, Kirsten's breath hitches slightly when she notices old scarring around his wrist.

 _The boy was chained to a wall with no food or water..._

Kirsten suddenly recalls the horrors of the newspaper article she read just this morning...

 _A dark hole, once used as a storm shelter, but now an empty pit..._

She runs her fingers gently over the old scars...

 _The leather wrist cuff you wear,_ Kirsten thinks solemnly to herself. _It isn't a fashion statement... you wear it to hide these scars..._

"M... Mom..."

Kirsten glances up at Ryan when she hears the boy's quiet voice. She leans in closer to him and places her hand upon his forehead; her maternal instincts taking over. She watches the boy move his shoulders ever so slightly as he struggles to open his eyes.

"Sandy, I think he's trying to wake up."

"Kirss... ssten?"

Kirsten looks at Ryan and offers a reassuring smile. "Hey there... it's alright, you're safe now."

"Hey kid, we're right here," Sandy says also with a smile, happy the boy is awake.

"Th... throa... s... sore..."

"How about some water," Kirsten proposes.

"Mmmm... 'kay..."

Sandy tries not to grimace at the sound of the boy's voice as he places his arm carefully behind Ryan's back to help him sit up.

Kirsten holds the cup of water and places the straw between the boy's dry lips. "Drink slowly. Small sips," Kirsten instructs.

Ryan sips the welcome fluid, drinking slowly to soothe his sore throat.

"I'm s... so s... sorry, Kirsten."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Kirsten says, not wanting the boy to feel guilty on top of everything else he's been through.

"We know the fire was an accident," Sandy says, raising the head of the bed so the boy can sit up by himself.

"Still m... my f... fault..."

"We also know it was Seth's idea to hide you in the model home," Sandy continues.

"He w... was j... just trying to help," Ryan stutters in a low, raspy voice.

"The model home is insured, Ryan," Kirsten says, offering the boy another sip of the water. "The important thing is no one died... you could have died in that fire."

Ryan finishes the cup of water and glances at both Sandy and Kirsten before looking away, wondering how he's ever going to make things right with them.

 _They don't deserve this..._

Kirsten takes Ryan's hand into hers and wills the boy to look at her. "Ryan, buildings can be rebuilt, but people... you can never replace a person."

Ryan listens to Kirsten, appreciating her words of wisdom.

"I'm g... going to have t... to go b... back to juvie..." Ryan lets out a hoarse cough, then tries to continue, "aren't I..."

"Ryan, try to stay calm," Sandy says, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"I'm so..." Ryan coughs again and immediately wraps his arms around his rib cage. "S... sorry..."

Ryan begins coughing uncontrollably as his lungs work to cleanse themselves. Tears fill his eyes as he begins gagging, bringing up phlegm and mucus; his body working frantically to clear the smoke and irritants from his lungs.

"Honey, go find the doctor or a nurse," Sandy says as he holds the boy, hoping it will help him calm down.

Kirsten begins to leave the room when Dr. Benson and two nurses rush in.

"We heard him down the hall," Neal states. "You both need to step out into the hallway."

Sandy and Kirsten do as they're told and watch as the medical team works diligently to help the boy. They watch as one nurse injects something into the IV line while the other nurse removes the nasal cannula and places an oxygen mask over the boy's mouth.

"You need to calm down," they hear the doctor instruct. "Breathe in the oxygen, Ryan. That's right... you're doing great."

"He can't go back to juvie," Kirsten says to Sandy as they both watch Ryan struggle to settle down.

"I'm not sure that we have a choice," Sandy explains. "I've got investigators searching for Dawn, but so far she's nowhere to be found."

"I don't want you to find Dawn," Kirsten states, turning her attention away from Ryan and towards her husband to give the boy some privacy when the nurses begin removing his hospital gown and dress him in a clean garment.

"What? But I thought..."

"I've changed my mind," Kirsten says. "Dawn's boyfriend beat the boy, then she threw him out of the house and abandoned him. What kind of mother abandons her own child?"

"The judge in juvenile court will only release Ryan to a parent or guardian..."

"Then let's become his legal guardians," Kirsten says, looking into her husband's eyes.

"Sweetheart, are you sure?" Sandy says, returning his wife's soulful gaze. "This would be a huge responsibility."

"Yes, I'm sure," Kirsten states. "In fact, I'm more than sure. This feels right, Sandy. I can't explain it..."

Sandy smiles warmly and embraces his wife. "You don't need to explain anything. I'll get the paperwork filed with the court right away."

"Will it take long?" Kirsten asks, knowing time is of the essence. In twenty-four hours, Ryan may be having to recover in the infirmary at juvenile hall.

"The court can issue a temporary or emergency guardianship the same day you file the papers," Sandy explains. "Ryan is a minor and I'm already his lawyer, and this situation is definitely an emergency. We'll both have to meet with a judge today and sign the papers, then it should just take a couple of more weeks to acquire permanent guardianship."

"I'll check on Seth while you start the process," Kirsten says.

"All right, sweetheart," Sandy says, kissing his wife on the top of her head. "I love you."

"I love you too," Kirsten says as she watches Sandy walk away. She then looks back over at Ryan and feels her eyes well up with tears as she watches the boy continue to struggle; the nurses holding him, reassuring him... pleading with him to trust them.

"You're not going back to juvie," Kirsten whispers, watching the boy pull the oxygen mask off to cough. She notices the excruciating pain on his face every time he expels air from his chest. "Sandy and I will make sure you're safe now."

 _And no one will hurt you again..._


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.

 **A/N:** This story is  AU and begins after Luke carries Ryan out of the burning building.

 **This chapter is a little on the long side because I decided to include the conversation with Ryan and the sheriff (as well as a little Ryan and Sandy time) instead of holding off and using it for the next chapter. I felt it gave this chapter better continuity. :-)**

 **Again, I'd like to remind readers that I'm writing Kirsten differently than how she was portrayed early on in the show. I used the newspaper article about the group home as a catalyst to view Ryan differently as well as to explain his sudden urge to run away. The article moved Kirsten emotionally and touched something inside her because it affected someone she knows. Ryan. It would really help me, as the writer, to not have the constant comparisons of the "Kirsten" I'm writing pitted against the "Kirsten" from the show. My story is AU and I want to change things and create something different. :-)**

 **Also, Sandy didn't have knowledge of the abuse going on at that particular group home. No one did. It just came to light after the boy committed suicide and his journal being discovered.**

 **I'm touched that so many readers want this story to continue for a long time, but as I stated, I had meant this to be a one-shot. (What was I thinking?) I'll do my best to stretch it out as long as possible. :-)**

 **Thank you for all the feedback and support. I really appreciate it!**

Chapter Three

"Hey, Dad's back."

Kirsten glances up and watches Sandy walk through the doors of the ER, looking serious and determined.

"How did it go?" Kirsten asks nervously. She's praying her husband was able to "work his magic" and get legal guardianship of Ryan.

"It went great," Sandy replies as he gives his wife a heartfelt hug. "I met with Judge Monroe."

"Beth Monroe?" Kirsten asks, remembering the woman at the last hospital fundraiser. They talked for quite awhile about the ups and downs of juggling a career and family.

"Yes, I told her what happened... the entire story," Sandy says. "She granted me emergency, temporary guardianship of Ryan."

"Really? That's wonderful!" Kirsten says in relief.

"Now, if anything arises with Ryan's medical condition, I'll be able to make decisions for him in the event he's unable to do so himself."

"But, it's just temporary?" Kirsten asks with concern.

"Here sweetheart," Sandy says, placing a legal document down on the table. "All you need to do is sign here next to my name. This will give both of us permanent guardianship."

Kirsten sits down and takes a pen out of her purse. She briefly reads over the document, then gazes at the empty signature line at the bottom of the page.

 _So many charity balls; so many fundraisers,_ Kirsten thinks to herself.

She would always write a check out at the end. She'd sign her name and feel good. Feel good about giving... about helping a cause; helping people. But who? Who was she helping? She never knew anyone's name. She never saw a face or heard a voice... until now.

 _Ryan doesn't need money. He needs a home,_ Kirsten thinks to herself. _He needs parents who care; parents who will look out for him and keep him safe_.

Kirsten runs her finger over the empty signature line and smiles. Not just a smile of contentment, but a smile of determination. She clicks her pen and signs her name, then hands the document back to her husband.

"I'll file this with the court first thing Monday morning," Sandy says. "It'll probably take about two weeks before we're granted permanent guardianship."

"But what about Dawn?" Kirsten asks.

"Yeah, Dad... what if she suddenly shows up and wants Ryan back?"

"Good question and one I can answer," Sandy states, happy to share his expertise. "There are a handful of scenarios where a parent will lose his or her parental rights. Abuse is one, but I have no direct evidence of Dawn abusing Ryan."

"But, it's clear Ryan's been abused," Kirsten says, remembering the first time she met the boy. The bruises on his face; how he kept his eyes cast downward and his head lowered.

 _He was frightened... withdrawn,_ Kirsten thinks to herself. _My god, what happened to that boy..._

"Another is neglect."

"Well, it's clear she's neglected Ryan," Kirsten states, thinking about what the boy's home life must have been like.

"Yes, but we have no hard evidence," Sandy interjects calmly. He knows the legal system. One must be pragmatic, thorough, as well as patient. "The files I have from child services shows he was removed from the home once due to Dawn's drug arrest and rehab. There were also a handful of police reports of Ryan running away, breaking curfew, truancy... things like that."

"He probably did those things because he didn't want to be home," Kirsten says.

"And past injuries have all either been explained..."

"As accidental," Kirsten interrupts, finishing her husband's sentence. She knows full well the majority of the boy's injuries were most likely not caused by "accidents".

"Correct, or 'suspected abuse'," Sandy continues. "Meaning 'no evidence'."

"Well, there must be something else," Seth says, hoping his friend won't have to go back to his mother in the event she suddenly shows up and decides she wants him back.

"Abandonment."

"Abandonment?" both Kirsten and Seth ask in unison.

"When I met with Judge Monroe in her office, she placed me under oath. I told her that when I brought Ryan home, Dawn was gone. She literally left the boy with nothing," Sandy continues. "In the eyes of the court, this constitutes 'abandonment', so her parental rights are being stripped away as we speak."

"What about juvie?" Kirsten asks, relieved Dawn will not have claim to Ryan if she decides to resurface from "who knows where". "Dr. Benson said he has to transfer Ryan over to juvenile hall..."

"Judge Monroe has notified them that I have guardianship and Ryan will be released into our care," Sandy says, hoping to allay his wife's fears. "I'll have to meet with the juvenile court judge next week to discuss what will happen to Ryan since he violated his parole."

"It was just trespassing!" Kirsten laments. "Surely they have other kids to deal with that have done much worse!"

"And because it's a minor offense, I should be able to work out a deal," Sandy says, understanding his wife's frustration. "Ryan will probably get another three months probation tacked on to his current time. Plus, Judge Monroe is vouching for us and putting in a good word. She advocates for kids and doesn't want to see Ryan back in juvie any more than we do."

"I believe Beth is up for re-election," Kirsten states, making a mental note to tell her "thank you" if she sees the judge at another fundraising event. "She'll definitely have my vote."

"She'd have mine too... if I was old enough to vote," Seth chimes in.

 _"Please Dr. Benson, I just need a couple of minutes with the boy..."_

Sandy hears Sheriff Hicks talking to the doctor and begins making his way towards the two men.

"Ah, Mr. Cohen... you've returned," Dr. Neal Benson says, watching Sandy approach with Kirsten and Seth not far behind.

"How's Ryan?" Sandy asks.

"He's stable," Neal replies. "Normally, someone with minor smoke inhalation doesn't require hospitalization, but because Ryan's been beaten and had lost consciousness, I'm keeping him here overnight under observation. But, I'm afraid that tomorrow morning I'll have to release him..."

"To me," Sandy interrupts.

"I'm sorry, I thought I explained to you and your wife that I can only release Ryan..."

"To a parent or legal guardian," Sandy interrupts again. Sandy takes out the document granting him emergency temporary guardianship and shows it to the doctor.

Dr. Benson quickly reads over the document and smiles. "This is good. This is very good. I can't tell you how much I was dreading sending the boy to the juvenile hall infirmary. Not that the staff there isn't competent, but Ryan will fare much better recovering in a quiet 'home' environment."

Kirsten smiles when she hears the word "home".

 _Ryan will have a home..._

"Dr. Benson, again... I really do need to get the boy's statement," Sheriff Ray Hicks implores. He wants to get all the facts and Ryan is their most important witness.

Neal Benson rubs the palm of his hand over his mouth and chin, contemplating the sheriff's request. He understands the urgency, but his patient must come first.

"I just need five minutes," Ray says, softening his approach. "I'm not going to interrogate the boy. I just need his statement of what happened last night."

"Five minutes," Dr. Benson reiterates. "We've just calmed him down and removed the oxygen mask and replaced it with a nasal canula. I don't want a repeat of the episode from a couple of hours ago."

"I need to be present when you talk to Ryan," Sandy states.

"Of course," Ray says. "In fact, I believe your presence will be quite helpful. You've proven yourself to be more than Ryan's lawyer. I'm sure he'll be happy to know he doesn't have to return to juvie to recover from his injuries."

"Is there anything I can do?" Kirsten asks, wanting to be helpful.

"His clothes," Sandy says. "Sheriff, do you need the clothing Ryan was wearing?"

"No," Ray replies. "Like I said, the fire has been ruled an accident, so you can take Ryan's clothing and any of his other belongings."

"I'll take his clothes home and wash them," Kirsten says, knowing everything must reek of smoke. "Oh no..."

"What, sweetheart?" Sandy asks with concern.

"Ryan... he's going to need some new clothes," Kirsten says. "He can't very well wear the same thing day after day."

"I've got some t-shirts and sweatpants he can borrow," Sandy says. "Just to tie him over until we can go shopping."

"Ryan's clothes are in a bag along with his other belongings," Neal says. "I'll have a nurse bring everything up to the front desk."

"Thank you, Dr. Benson," Kirsten says with an appreciative smile.

"What about his backpack?" Seth inquires.

"His backpack?" the sheriff asks.

"Yeah, Ryan's backpack," Seth says, feeling sad for his friend. "Everything he owned was in that backpack..."

"I'm sorry, but I don't recall seeing a backpack recovered from the debris," Ray says, noting the remorse on the teenager's face. "Do you think Ryan had anything of sentimental value in his backpack?"

"No... I don't think so," Seth says. "I think he just had like an extra undershirt... maybe a toothbrush and a stick of deodorant."

Kirsten places her arm around her son, hoping to console him.

"I screwed up... I screwed up so bad," Seth bemoans, feeling the weight of what has happened to his friend and being powerless to do anything to help him. "I guess the construction site wasn't exactly the safest place for him..."

"Well, with all the sex offenders, predators and 'god knows what' out there, it was safer than letting Ryan walk along the freeway in the middle of the night to hitch a ride down to Texas," Sandy states, hoping his son won't beat himself up too hard but, at the same time, learn something from all of this.

"All right, Seth and I will go back home and wash Ryan's clothes so he'll have something clean to wear tomorrow," Kirsten says as she and Seth begin to take their leave.

"Oh, one last thing, Mrs. Cohen," Ray Hick states.

Kirsten turns around and looks at the sheriff, curious as to what more he has to say.

"I've already sent my deputy over to talk to your neighbor... the girl who was with Ryan."

"Marissa," Kirsten says.

"That's right... Marissa," Ray acknowledges. "I ask that you not speak to anyone about this investigation. This means not talking to your neighbors, the Coopers."

"He's right, honey. You and Seth cannot talk to anyone," Sandy says. "And no matter what, do not talk to Julie. If she calls, ignore it. If she drops by the house? Pretend you're not home."

Kirsten smiles at her husband and nods in agreement. "I've got laundry to do," Kirsten states. "Julie Cooper? Well, I guess she'll just have to wait."

Sandy watches as Kirsten and Seth walk away to retrieve Ryan's clothes. He smiles, thinking about what his wife will most likely end up doing on her way home.

 _You're going to check Ryan's clothing. You're going to find out what size the boy is and swing by the mall on your way back home._

"She's going to buy the kid a whole new wardrobe. I just know it," Sandy says, running his hand over his face to wipe away his grin.

"I beg your pardon?" Ray asks.

"My wife. She loves to shop. She was born to shop," Sandy says, realizing he spoke out loud. "But enough about shopping. You want to get Ryan's statement."

"Yes, I so very much want that boy's statement," Ray says in agreement.

"Well then, the doctor gave us five minutes," Sandy says as he walks towards Ryan's room with the sheriff. "Let's not waste any time."

Sandy peeks his head around the privacy curtain, making sure a nurse isn't with him. He feels his heart sink when he sees the boy sitting up in bed, staring down at his lap looking beaten. Not just physically, but mentally, emotionally... just beaten.

"Hey kid, mind if we come in?"

Ryan glances up and sees Sandy enter the room with a man he's never seen before. He notes the hat and special badge... a sheriff. Ryan eyes the tall man as he follows Sandy into the room and wonders if he'll suffer the indignity of being handcuffed to the bed railing.

"Ryan, my name is Sheriff Hicks," Ray says as he takes off his sheriff's hat, noting the boy glancing at him warily. "I'm heading up the investigation..."

"I didn't mean to set the building on fire," Ryan interrupts. "It really was an accident."

"Yes, we know the fire was an accident," Ray acknowledges, pulling a chair up to Ryan's bedside to sit down. He knows he's a tall man and doesn't want to tower over the boy. "I mean the investigation regarding the person who assaulted you."

Ryan looks at the sheriff with a confused look on his face. He then glances over at Sandy before returning his attention back to the sheriff. "I don't understand..."

"Two joggers found you unconscious and saw someone flee the scene. We've been interviewing witnesses and collecting evidence..."

"But, I'm not going to press charges," Ryan states. He knows it wouldn't do any good anyways."

"That's not how it works, Ryan," Sandy says. "Maybe on TV, but not in real life."

"He's right," Ray agrees. "It's up to the State Prosecutor. If he feels there's enough evidence to bring assault charges against the assailant, then he will. It's my job to collect evidence, get witness accounts and, of course, get the victim's statement."

"I'm not a victim..." Ryan says, almost in a whisper. He hates being viewed as a "victim".

"All right, but someone did hurt you," Ray says in a gentle tone of voice. "I would very much like to get your account of what happened last night."

Ryan glances over at Sandy looking for guidance. Sandy nods his head, letting the boy know he can talk to the sheriff.

Ray notices the boy's hesitation and decides to give him a head start. "I spoke with your friend, Seth," Ray says, taking out his notepad and pen. "I know everything that happened yesterday up until the time Seth left."

"Seth left because it was getting late," Ryan states.

"He said it was around ten thirty... eleven."

"That's right."

"Can you tell me what happened next?" Ray asks gently. He notes that this boy is completely opposite from Seth. Seth wouldn't stop talking, but with Ryan, getting him to talk will take a bit of coaxing and a lot of patience.

"It was dark so I..."

Sandy places his hand over his mouth. He doesn't want to say anything unless he has to intervene. It's too important for the sheriff to establish a trust with the boy and he's relieved Ray Hicks has a calm, easygoing, nonthreatening demeanor.

"Go on, Ryan..."

"I lit..." Ryan sighs and looks down at his lap. "I lit the candles."

"The candles the Cooper girl brought you?" Ray asks, noting the boy feels bad and will probably beat himself up over this for years. Maybe longer...

"Yeah... Mmm... Ma..." Ryan suddenly feels his throat dry up and tries to take in a small breath. He buckles up in pain when he starts to cough.

"Here, drink some water," Ray says, acting quickly and grabbing the cup of fluid on the side table.

Ryan accepts the cup of water and takes a small sip. He grits his teeth against the pain around his rib cage as he tries to hold the cup steady to drink.

"Ryan, let me help you," Sandy says, noticing the boy struggling.

"No... I got it... I'm f... fine..."

Ray scratches the thinning hair on top of his head, intrigued with the boy who was beaten unconscious and left next to a burning building. He has yet to hear a single complaint out of the kid.

Ryan begins to settle down as he slowly drinks the water. He places the empty cup next to him in bed, too tired to reach over to set it on the table. He runs his hand through his dirty hair then over his brow, wiping away the beads of perspiration. He feels so filthy. He'd give anything right now for a hot shower. But, he knows the only shower in his immediate future will be at juvie; a cool to lukewarm shower with a host of guards watching him. Privacy is nonexistent in juvie. You're always being watched.

"Are you alright to continue?" Ray asks, wanting the boy to take as much time as he needs to regroup.

"Yeah... I'm fine."

"Okay, so you lit the candles the Cooper girl brought you," Ray states.

"Right... Marissa."

"And, where was Marissa?"

"She was... she wanted to..."

"She wanted to what?"

Ryan glances over at Sandy again, then back down at his lap. He runs his hand over the white blanket, trying to make it smooth.

Sandy decides to break his silence, hoping to put the boy more at ease. "It's alright, Ryan. You're not in any trouble. Just be honest."

"She wanted to spend the night... with me," Ryan says quietly. "But, I said 'no'."

"That is what Miss Cooper told my deputy earlier," Ray says, making a note in his notepad. "So then what happened?"

Sandy glances up at the closed curtain, praying the doctor doesn't stick to his word and come in to break up the interview. This is going to take much longer than five minutes.

"She left."

"All right, what happened after Marissa left?" Ray asks with patience as he takes the empty cup next to Ryan and fills it with more water, just in case the boy needs it. Trying to get words out of this kid is a lot like pulling teeth.

Ryan places his hand on his forehead and begins to rub his eyebrows. He feels a headache coming on just thinking about what happened.

"It's not important," Ryan says. "It doesn't matter..."

"Someone hurt you, Ryan," Ray states, looking directly at the boy, hoping to make some sort of eye contact. "So this is important. It does matter."

"Ryan, if you know who hurt you, please tell us," Sandy implores.

Ryan lets out a plaintive sigh. He doesn't understand why Sandy and the sheriff is so interested in who beat him. It was just a fight...

"Luke," Ryan whispers, his voice becoming shaky as it trails off. "Luke and his..."

"And his?" Ray asks, suddenly becoming aware that this may be more than just a simple assault. He may be dealing with a felony.

"His friends."

"How many?" Ray asks, leaning in closer to Ryan; his pen ready to write down any information the boy decides to divulge.

"Nordlund and Chip something..." Ryan says, recalling the first time he butted heads with Luke and his "posse". At some girl's party on the beach... he rescued Seth.

 _And I made a shitload of enemies..._

"There were three?" Ray asks with deep concern. "Are you saying it was three against one?"

Ryan sinks lower into the bed and pulls the blanket up to his chest.

"I'm tired," Ryan whispers, turning over on his side. "I really don't want to talk about it anymore."

Sheriff Ray Hicks lets out a plaintive sigh. He knows he's gotten everything he can from the boy.

 _He's exhausted,_ Ray thinks to himself. _I can't push him anymore. Besides, I have everything I need._

"I want to thank you, Ryan," Ray says. "Thank you for talking with me. I know it wasn't easy."

Ray Hicks dons his sheriff's hat and begins to take his leave.

"Sheriff, wait up!" Sandy says, wanting a moment of the man's time.

Ray stands out in the hallway, knowing what the lawyer is probably after.

"You said you've collected evidence. Is there something else besides the license plate number and the witnesses' accounts?" Sandy states. "I need to know what you've discovered..."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Cohen," Ray says plainly. "You know I can't talk about an ongoing investigation..."

"But I'm Ryan's lawyer," Sandy states emphatically. He wants to protect the boy. He needs to protect him..."

"I understand you're the boy's lawyer," Ray states. "But Ryan isn't the one I'm placing under arrest."

Sandy stands still as he watches the sheriff walk away down the hall. He then turns his attention back towards Ryan and sees the boy curled up in a ball, clutching the blankets in his bruised fists.

 _You want all of this to go away, don't you, kid,_ Sandy thinks to himself as he steps back into the room and quietly sits down in the chair next to the bed. _You want to pretend none of this has ever happened._

"I'm right here, kid," Sandy whispers, placing his hand gently upon the boy's shoulder.

Ryan turns over on his back and looks at Sandy. "You don't have to stay here. It's Saturday. You should be home with your family."

"Ryan, I'm not going to leave you here in the hospital all by yourself," Sandy says. "Besides, Kirsten and Seth went home to wash your clothes so you'll have something clean to wear tomorrow. I'm also without a car, so you're stuck with me."

"But why?" Ryan asks, confused why anyone would want to wash his clothes. "I'm just going back to juvie tomorrow."

"Well, there's been a change in plans," Sandy says. "You won't be sporting the blue jumpsuit anytime soon."

"I don't understand. The doctor told me..."

"I was able to get emergency guardianship so you'll be coming home with me tomorrow," Sandy interrupts.

Ryan sits up in bed. Struggling slightly, Sandy immediately pops up out of the chair and helps the boy get more comfortable.

"But... but why? Why would you want to be my guardian?"

"Oh, I don't know," Sandy says. "Maybe because you've been injured and may need an adult to help you make medical decisions. Or, maybe because you're a good kid and shouldn't have to go back to juvie just because there's no other place for you to go."

"I burned down your wife's model home," Ryan states matter-of-factly.

"Nope, sorry... that's just not true," Sandy says, keeping his voice light, almost playful. "You lit those candles for light. When those goons decided to physically assault you, the candles fell and the fire was started."

"Yeah, but..."

"So technically, Luke, Chip and Nord whoever, caused the fire. Unintentional? Yes. But their reckless actions caused the fire."

Ryan looks down at his lap, contemplating his lawyer's line of reasoning.

"You'll most likely get a few months tacked on to your probation because you were trespassing," Sandy continues. "But, I think you can handle that. The most important thing right now is that you get better. And even the doctor agrees. You will fare much better coming home with me and Kirsten than going back to juvie."

Ryan glances up at Sandy and offers a small but heartfelt smile. He doesn't know what to say. He was prepared to go back to juvie and tough it out for six months. He discreetly pinches himself, making sure he's not dreaming.

"And since Kirsten and I are filing papers to become your permanent guardians, we want you to call us by our first names."

"I think I may have already called Kirsten by her first name," Ryan says quietly, slightly embarrassed.

"Yeah, I know," Sandy says with a big grin. "You were just waking up, but Kirsten was fine with you calling her by her first name. Besides, she doesn't like being called 'Mrs. Cohen'." Sandy leans in towards Ryan and whispers, "It makes her feel old."

Ryan smiles. He definitely didn't think the day was going to end like this.

"Thank you," Ryan says, feeling it's not enough but it's the only thing he can think of to say at the moment.

Sandy returns Ryan's smile, then notices the boy trying to stifle a yawn. "Why don't you get some sleep," Sandy proposes.

"But, what are you going to do?" Ryan asks, finding his eyelids becoming heavy as he becomes more drowsy.

"Don't worry about me, just get some rest." Sandy stands up and adjusts the pillows behind Ryan's head and pulls the blanket up to cover him. He looks down and sees the boy already falling fast asleep and smiles contently.

 _You're coming home with me,_ Sandy thinks to himself. _You are going to have a family who cares... you're going to have a home._


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.

 **A/N:** This story is  AU and begins after Luke carries Ryan out of the burning building.

 **I know it's been awhile since I've updated and I apologize. I've been struggling with some health issues which is why this chapter is a little on the short side, at least compared to the last chapter. ;-) I wanted to include much more (Luke, for example) but felt it was better to post something instead of waiting.**

 **I know I have a wonderful group of readers who are following and reading my stories, so you know that I have this story completely outlined from beginning to end. Unless I'm abducted by aliens (or worse), I will always complete my story. :-)**

 **Thank you for all the feedback and support. I really appreciate it!**

Chapter Four

It was a very long, fitful night. Between nightmares of being engulfed in flames and nurses coming in to check on him throughout the night, Ryan barely got any sleep. But whenever he did wake up, Sandy was always there ready to help. He'd place a cool, damp cloth over his forehead and give him water to soothe his parched throat. Then he'd gently massage his shoulders and back, offering comforting words until he relaxed and succumbed to sleep.

His own mother never gave him that much attention, even when he was sick.

 _Where are you, Mom?_

Come morning, Ryan was ready to leave. He wanted the tube supplementing oxygen out of his nose. He wanted the blood pressure cuff off his arm and the IV supplying him saline and pain relief out of his vein. And he desperately wanted a hot shower.

"Good morning, I hope you had a good night's rest," Dr. Benson says as he enters the room.

Ryan looks over at the doctor now standing next to his bed. He's not sure how to answer the innocuous statement. Does the doctor want the truth or is he just looking for a ho-hum, run-of-the-mill reply. Ryan doesn't really know the man. When they met, all Ryan remembers is a group of nurses stripping him naked while he struggled to breathe and remain conscious.

"Sure," Ryan replies, opting to go for ho-hum, run-of-the-mill. It's always worked for him in the past.

"I'm glad to hear that," Neal says as he dons his stethoscope and places the chest piece on Ryan's back. "Take in a deep breath please."

Ryan flinches slightly as the cold chest piece hits his warm flesh. He takes in a deep breath and is instantly relieved he doesn't start coughing.

"That's good, now just breathe normal."

Ryan does as he's told, flinching each time the chest piece is moved. He wonders if the doctor even knows how cold it feels.

"Hello? May we come in?" Kirsten asks as she peeks her head around the curtain, not wanting to completely invade the boy's privacy.

"Sweetheart, you're back," Sandy says with a smile as he walks over to hug his wife and usher both her and his son into the room.

"I have Ryan's clothes," Kirsten says, setting a bag down on the chair. "Dr. Benson, will you be releasing Ryan today?"

"I see no reason why not," Neal replies. "His breath sounds are good and he made it through the night without incident."

 _Without incident?_ Sandy thinks to himself. _You mean the kid wasn't vomiting and writhing in pain. Basically, he never complained..._

"There are a few things we need to discuss," Neal says, tucking his stethoscope back into his lab coat pocket. "Ryan needs rest and plenty of fluids. No strenuous exercise and no heavy lifting for at least a couple of weeks, preferably longer. He can take over-the-counter medicine for pain like Motrin or Aleve, but stay away from aspirin. It can cause bleeding and will just take the bruising longer to heal."

"Understood," Sandy says.

Dr. Benson turns and focuses his attention on Ryan. "If you start to experience any dizziness, nausea or severe headaches, I want you back here immediately," Neal states emphatically. "You don't wait a day to see if it goes away. Do I make myself clear?"

Ryan nods his head, letting the doctor know he understands.

"Mr. and Mrs. Cohen, I suggest that you schedule a follow-up appointment for Ryan with your family physician in two weeks."

"We'll do that," Sandy acknowledges. "Don't worry, Dr. Benson. We'll take good care of him."

"Oh, I know you will," Neal says with a smile, happy he can release the boy into the care of a good family.

"So, Ryan, I washed your clothes but I had to bring your jacket to the cleaners," Kirsten says as she takes the garments out of the bag and folds them neatly on the chair. "They have an expert on staff who cleans nothing but leather and suede. There was also a small tear in the shoulder seam that they can mend."

Kirsten notes a worried look suddenly appear upon the boy's face. "I've used them before, Ryan. You can trust them. They're excellent."

"I'm sure they are," Ryan says almost in a whisper, lowering his head.

"Ryan, your jacket... is it special?" Kirsten asks. "To you... I mean, is it something you hold dear?"

"My brother, Trey... he bought it for me," Ryan states quietly, remembering the birthday gift he received when he turned fifteen. Ryan cherished it. It was the only gift he got.

"Oh really, from where?" Kirsten asks. "Your brother has very good taste."

Ryan fights off a tinge of embarrassment and the feeling of inadequacy when he replies, "Salvation Army." He knows the cleaning bill will probably be more than what his brother actually paid for the jacket.

Kirsten offers a reassuring smile, realizing the boy has suddenly become self-conscious. "It looks like your brother found quite a treasure. It truly is a fine leather jacket."

"Well, if the cleaners fry it, don't fret," Seth pipes in. "We can just buy you a new one."

"Seth! Trey bought that jacket for Ryan. It means something to him," Kirsten states firmly, admonishing her son for his tactless comment. "You just don't throw something like that away and replace it with a new one."

"Yeah, okay... whatever... but you did buy him some new shirts and stuff," Seth points out.

"That's entirely different," Kirsten replies.

"You bought me shirts?" Ryan asks.

"Yes, and some underwear just to tie you over until you're well enough to come with me to the mall," Kirsten says. "Sandy has some sweatpants and t-shirts you can also borrow."

"Yeah, 'cuz we all know every teenager wants to wear middle-aged men's clothing," Seth quips with a hint of sarcasm, trying to be funny but only eliciting disapproving glares from both his parents.

Ryan looks up at Kirsten and offers a heartfelt, appreciative smile. "Thank you."

Kirsten studies the soft-spoken boy, wondering where he learned such good manners. From what Sandy has told her about Ryan's parents, she's fairly certain they weren't the source.

 _Maybe another family member or a neighbor... possibly a teacher?_ Kirsten thinks to herself. _Or maybe he was just born polite._

Kirsten returns the boy's sincere, yet shy smile and replies earnestly, "You are most welcome."

"Maureen will remove the IV and help Ryan get dressed," Neal says, nodding towards the nurse who's been standing quietly off to the side. "While she does that, you folks can go to the front desk to take care of some paperwork, then bring your car around to the front. There's an area marked for 'patient pickup'."

Sandy notices a somewhat panicked look appear on Ryan's face.

"I don't need help getting dressed," Ryan says, wanting everyone to know he's not an invalid or completely helpless.

"I'm not comfortable leaving you alone," Neal explains. "You could easily lose your balance or..."

"Would it be alright if I helped him?" Sandy asks, interrupting before the doctor goes into his spiel regarding safety and hospital policy.

"I don't see why not," Neal says. "As long as there's someone here with him."

"Honey, is that alright?" Sandy asks his wife. "Can you handle the paperwork?"

"Of course, it's no problem. While I do that, Seth can get the car," Kirsten replies, handing the keys to the Rover over to her son and coaxing him out of the room so the nurse can begin removing the IV.

"All right, then. Ryan, it's been a pleasure meeting you," Neal says, opting not to shake the boy's hand. It would most likely be painful due to the bruising around his knuckles and besides, shaking hands is a great way to spread germs. "Follow my instructions and you should start to feel much better in a few days."

"I will," Ryan assures as he watches the doctor leave and close the curtain behind him.

"What do you say we free you from all this stuff," the nurse says as she removes the blood pressure cuff off Ryan's arm and the clamp from his middle finger. She then carefully removes the nasal cannula from around his face, then pulls a tray filled with gauze and bandages over to the bed.

Ryan watches as the nurse carefully withdraws the IV needle. She then gently places a cotton ball topped with a small gauze pad over the bleeding before securing everything with a strip of surgical tape.

"There. How does that feel? Any discomfort from the IV?"

"No, it's fine," Ryan replies, amazed by the nurse's efficiency. He barely felt a thing.

"Excellent," Maureen says, gracing Ryan with a warm smile. "Mr. Cohen, I'll let you help Ryan get dressed. If you need anything, just push that button on the wall," the nurse explains. "I'll get you a copy of the doctor's instructions for you. Open the curtain to let me know when Ryan's ready.

"Will do," Sandy replies as he watches the nurse leave.

Ryan tosses the blanket and sheet off him, then gingerly moves his legs around and sits on the side of the bed. "I can't believe Kirsten actually washed my clothes," Ryan says as Sandy hands him his gray boxer briefs.

"When she gets into 'Mom mode', there's no stopping her," Sandy explains. "And I know she wanted to be helpful."

Ryan carefully puts his feet through the leg openings of the boxer briefs, then slowly slides off the side of the bed to pull his underwear on.

"Let me help you with your pants," Sandy says.

"I can do it."

"I know you can but I don't want you bending over." Sandy kneels down on the floor and holds the pant legs open to allow Ryan to step into them, then pulls the trousers up just enough so the boy can reach them and finish dressing himself.

Ryan notices Sandy next picking up his undershirt. He grimaces slightly as he reaches back to unsnap the hospital gown; his bruised rib cage reminding him he'll be in for many sleepless nights as every toss and turn in bed will be painfully jarring.

Sandy tries not to react when he sees the bruising on the boy's torso. He still has yet to hear one complaint come out of the kid's mouth.

"Good thing your t-shirt is sleeveless," Sandy says as he holds the shirt in front of Ryan.

Ryan threads his arms through the arm holes and allows Sandy to stretch the neck opening over his head. Ryan immediately takes over and pulls the t-shirt down, wanting to cover himself up as quickly as possible.

"And, your hoodie," Sandy says, guiding Ryan's arms through the sleeves. "Why don't you sit down in the chair and I'll put your shoes and socks on."

"I can do..." Ryan immediately stops himself mid-sentence, remembering Sandy's "no bending over" rule.

Sandy smiles to himself. He knows with each little step, Ryan is trusting him more.

 _I just need to be patient..._

Sandy finishes tying the shoelaces when he glances up at Ryan and sees the boy struggling to zip up his hoodie.

"Let me help you with the zipper," Sandy says.

"It's alright, I can do it," Ryan says, becoming frustrated as he yanks on the simple clothing fastener.

"Ryan, stop. Look at me," Sandy states firmly, but in a gentle tone of voice.

Ryan lets out a sigh of exasperation, but stops fighting with the zipper and looks at Sandy.

"Let me help. Stand up," Sandy says, easing Ryan out of the chair. "Your knuckles are bruised and swollen. I know it has to be painful for you to use your hands like this, so please... let me help."

Ryan looks down at his bruised hands, the pain now pulsating into his wrists and up his forearms, as well as his fingers. He looks back to Sandy and replies softly, "Okay."

"When we get home, you can ice your hand and take some Motrin," Sandy says as he fiddles with the stubborn zipper.

"Home?" Ryan questions. Could it really be true? Is this man actually opening his home to him, giving him a place to stay... no, a place to live?

"Yeah," Sandy replies as he zips the hoodie halfway up Ryan's chest. Sandy places his hands gently upon Ryan's shoulders and looks into the boy's wistful eyes.

"What do you say, kid," Sandy says with a warm, heartfelt smile. "Let's go home."


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.

 **A/N:** This story is  AU and begins after Luke carries Ryan out of the burning building.

 **I know there was always a question about how old the kids were in the first season. I was told by someone that Luke was 18 when I expressed my dislike for the Julie/Luke affair story arc. But I remember he was in a class with Ryan, so in my story Luke is sixteen. I also want to evolve Luke. I always liked the character and thought he had a lot to offer, but for some reason he was written off the show.**

 **Also, for those readers who may cringe when the name "Theresa" is mentioned, the character will not actually be in this story. I was always confused why Ryan didn't just go to Theresa's after Dawn threw him out of the house. I know, there wouldn't have been a show. ;-) But, I decided to address the issue because it's something that has always bothered me.  
**

 **Thank you for all the feedback and support. I really appreciate it!**

Chapter Five

Ryan stares out the backseat window of the Rover; the passing trees and telephone lines nothing more than a blur upon the landscape. He's been able to tune out Seth's unending banter on the way home from Hoag. A constant stream of words about what? Ryan's not really sure. He's beginning to believe that his friend talks just to hear himself "talk".

"Here we are," Sandy announces as he pulls up the driveway and turns off the engine. "Home sweet home."

Ryan opens the car door and gingerly steps out. He welcomes the warm sun as it shines down upon his face and breathes in the fresh air. He glances around at the surroundings, remembering when he walked up this very same driveway with Sandy just a few days ago. He tossed away his cigarette when Sandy informed him of their "no smoking in the house" rule. Ryan smiles to himself recalling how the man scampered, as if performing a soft-shoe dance, to snuff out the smoldering butt with his shoe. Ryan can't imagine having a cigarette now.

 _I've breathed in enough smoke..._

Ryan follows the Cohens up to the house and steps into the spacious foyer. He looks around briefly then glances down at the white marble floor, not quite sure what to do or where to go.

"So, Ryan, I got this new game..."

"Seth, remember you're grounded," Kirsten states firmly. "We agreed that you have to do daily chores before you can watch TV or play video games."

"But we just got home," Seth whines in protest.

"Ryan, would you like something to eat?" Kirsten asks, ignoring her son's lament.

"Actually, I..." Ryan says quietly, "I... well, I really would like to take a shower."

"Oh, of course," Kirsten says with a reassuring smile, noting the boy's reluctance to tell them what he wants or, god forbid, what he may need.

Ryan begins walking away towards the kitchen, making his way to the patio.

"Ryan, where are you going?" both Sandy and Kirsten call out.

Ryan abruptly stops and turns to look at the Cohens. A slight tinge of panic wells up in his chest, worried that he may have done something wrong.

"The pool house?" Ryan questions, pointing his thumb in the direction he was going.

"I fixed up the bedroom next to Seth's room for you," Kirsten says, ushering the boy back into the foyer. "After you've spent some time there, we can go shopping. We can repaint the room a color to your liking... get different bedding. You can get posters..."

"But, the pool house... I thought..."

"The pool house is for guests," Kirsten states. "It's important that you make the bedroom upstairs your own."

"Come on, let me show you to your room," Sandy says, gently placing his arm around Ryan's shoulders to guide the confused boy up the stairs.

"So, what am I supposed to do?" Seth asks.

"You're coming with me," Kirsten states firmly. "To the kitchen, now. We can go over your chores."

Seth lets out a long, plaintive sigh and hangs his head low as he follows his mother into the kitchen, knowing there's no use in arguing anymore. He's clearly been defeated.

Sandy stops briefly on the stairs and watches his son walk away with Kirsten's arm draping over his sagging shoulders, steering him towards the kitchen.

 _Two teenage boys under one roof,_ Sandy thinks to himself. He shakes his head and smiles, gently squeezing Ryan's shoulders as they continue walking up the stairs. _This is going to be interesting..._

* * *

"Sheriff, what is the meaning of this!" Carson Ward demands angrily. "Arresting my son? For what!"

"Please calm down, Mr. Ward," Ray instructs as he enters the small interrogation room. He notes the teenager leaning back in the chair with his arms folded in front of his chest, looking defiant; the father standing next to his son, his face red with anger.

"And arresting him in public during an exhibition match? How dare you!"

"Please, sit down, Mr. Ward," Ray says calmly as he himself takes a seat at the table. "We all know those exhibition matches don't mean anything. It's just practice, right Luke?"

Luke shrugs his shoulders and maintains his frown and icy glare.

"But you weren't playing, were you Luke," Ray states matter-of-factly as he takes some papers out of a manila folder. "You were sitting poolside, not even suited up. Why was that?"

"The coach thought Luke was coming down with a cold," Carson explains, trying to settle himself down as he takes a seat at the table next to his son.

"Is this true, Luke?" Ray asks.

"I got a slight cough... some congestion. Nothin' major," Luke replies.

"Slight cough, huh. That wouldn't possibly be the result from breathing in a little smoke now, would it?"

Ray notes the teenager as he squirms a bit in his chair, offering up more daggers courtesy of an angry glare.

"Luke, where were you Friday night between 10:30 and midnight?" Ray asks.

"I was with friends," Luke replies curtly.

Ray smiles. "I didn't ask who you were with, I asked you where you were."

"I don't know... around," Luke answers impatiently. "Just hangin' out with my friends."

"Would you mind telling me what this is all about!" Carson demands. "What are you charging my son with!"

"Misdemeanor assault and battery, leaving the scene of an accident, gross negligence, reckless endangerment and criminal trespassing."

"What! This is bullshit!" Luke cries out.

"Who is the person my son has allegedly assaulted?"

"Ryan Atwood," Ray replies.

"Who in the world is Ryan Atwood?" Carson asks, confused he's never heard the name before.

"He's a teenager from Chino who is living with Sandy and Kirsten Cohen," Ray explains. "Mr. Cohen is Ryan's lawyer. The boy got into a bit of trouble, but the Cohen's are now his legal guardians and are helping him through a very rough time."

"He doesn't belong here," Luke huffs out. "He should go back to Chino."

"Yes, well... that's not going to happen anytime soon," Ray says. "Besides, the last I checked, we still live in a free country. Mr. Atwood can live wherever he chooses."

"He was screwin' around with my girlfriend!" Luke shouts.

"You're girlfriend... would that be Marissa Cooper?" Ray asks, knowing exactly who the teenager is talking about but wanting the acknowledgment none the less.

"Yeah, Marissa."

"Well, according to Marissa, she was the one who wanted to spend the night with Ryan, but he turned her down," Ray says looking back through his deputy's notes. "Seems like a real upstanding guy, in my opinion." Ray glances up at Luke, looking for some reaction. "You know... not wanting to infringe on another guy's girlfriend."

Luke lets out another huff and begins tapping his foot impatiently on the floor.

"Seems like your argument should have been with your girlfriend. Not that I'm saying you should've beaten her up or anything..."

"Hey, I'd never hit Marissa!" Luke interrupts, not liking what the man is implying.

"Of course, not," Ray replies, holding both hands up defensively. "You're a true gentleman."

"What's your proof, Sheriff," Carson asks, having finally calmed down. Parental concern has now taken over.

"We have Ryan's statement, of course, but we also have two eyewitnesses who place your son at the scene. Luke was seen dropping Ryan down next to the burning building before fleeing..."

"Burning building? Dropping him down?" Carson interrupts, wanting more details.

"Friday night, a model home owned by the Newport Group was burned to the ground," Ray explains.

"Yes, I know. It was in today's paper," Carson says.

"The fire was ruled 'accidental' but your son was seen carrying Ryan out of the burning building," Ray continues. "The kid was unconscious from being beaten."

"Oh my god..." Carson sighs.

"This is why the State Prosecutor is going for criminal trespassing. We have it on good authority that your son entered the model home with the intent to inflict bodily harm on Ryan. That assault then caused the home to catch fire. The fire was unintentional but the assault was not."

Carson Ward runs his hand over his beleaguered face and groans. "What is this 'good authority'?

"Luke's friends, Nordlund and Chip," Ray replies. "They too have been arrested and are being interviewed in the adjacent rooms. They both claim the assault on Ryan was Luke's idea."

"They're lying!" Luke yells, angry his friends would turn on him like this.

"These construction sites also have video cameras placed at the entrances. They're supposed to deter vandals and other miscreants." Ray again looks at the teenager, hoping his words are getting "under his skin" as he takes an enlarged photo from the folder and places it in the center of the table. "Looks a lot like your truck, doesn't it, Luke? And those gosh darn vanity plates. They'll getcha every time."

"Fuck you."

"And what about your mom. Her name is Meredith, am I correct?" Ray asks, ignoring the profanity. "She's home right now..."

"Yeah, so?" Luke replies with irritation, not understanding why the sheriff would bring up his mother.

"We were issued a search warrant about an hour ago so we're conducting a search of your home right now as we speak," Ray explains. "Tell me, Luke, has your mom done the laundry recently? Will my deputies find the clothes you were wearing Friday night in the hamper? Still reeking of smoke perhaps?"

"Jesus, Luke... please tell me this isn't true," Carson beseeches his son.

Luke glances over at his father and sees the hurt and disappointment in his eyes.

"Luke, if you cooperate, it'll make things much easier for you," Ray says, hoping he's getting through to the teenager.

Luke squirms around in the chair and lets out a plaintive sigh. He leans forward and plants his elbows on the table while cupping his hands over his tired face.

"Luke, did you assault Ryan Atwood Friday night?" Ray asks.

"Luke, don't answer that. Don't say another word," Carson states firmly, wanting to protect his son. "Sheriff Hicks, I'm calling our lawyer. This interrogation is officially over."

* * *

"Seth is going to do chores?" Ryan asks Sandy as they both slowly climb the stairs. "I still don't understand why you're grounding him."

"Well, Kirsten and I understand that Seth was trying to help you, but he had other choices," Sandy explains, suddenly stopping outside his son's bedroom. "For example, he could have hid you here in his room."

Ryan peeks his head inside Seth's bedroom and takes in the chaotic mess.

"There's no way anyone would have been able to find you in there," Sandy says, giving Ryan a playful grin and a wink.

"I suppose... but why are you having Seth do chores? He's already grounded."

"Well, just grounding Seth would have resulted in a mopey teenager, 24/7, and I didn't want us to suffer," Sandy explains, placing his arm back around Ryan's shoulders to walk with him down the hall. "Seth agreed to do a set of chores each day to shorten the duration of, as he has referred to it, his 'sentence'." Sandy stops in front of Ryan's bedroom and smiles. "This way, I get to dole out some parental discipline, you'll get some much needed quiet time and rest, and Kirsten will get a clean house. It's a win, win, win for all of us."

"All of us except Seth," Ryan points out.

"Believe me, this will be good for him," Sandy assures.

Ryan smiles at Sandy's remark as he steps into the spacious bedroom and looks around. He runs his hand carefully over the top of the oak Craftsman mission-style double dresser, then touches the bed's matching headboard. Plump pillows lay upon a thick comforter with a scrolling damask motif in hues of ivory and blue. He takes note of the wall color; a light tan reminding him of creamy, warm caramel. Ryan has no idea what he could possibly change. The room is perfect the way it is.

"Kirsten bought me all of these clothes?" Ryan asks, catching sight of the garments laid out neatly on the bed.

"If something doesn't fit or if you don't like..."

"No, I'm sure everything will fit," Ryan interrupts, glancing over the crew neck short-sleeve shirts and long-sleeve Henleys. "But, the clothes... they look expensive."

"She told me she got everything on sale," Sandy replies.

Ryan glances over at the packages of underwear; the brand with perfect male torsos gracing the front, leaving little to the imagination. The expensive brand that has just two or three items to a package, not the pack of six to eight Ryan usually buys for less than half the price.

Ryan picks up a blue, long-sleeve Henley and reads the label.

 _J. Crew._

He's amazed with how soft the cotton feels between his fingers. He doesn't recall ever having a shirt so soft. It suddenly reminds him of Theresa; how soft her skin always felt when he touched her.

Ryan suddenly feels an uneasy pang in the pit of his stomach, an emptiness with his heart feeling heavy in his chest.

"Ryan, is something wrong?" Sandy asks with concern.

"No... it's nothing..."

"Ryan?" Sandy inquires again. "It's alright. Tell me what's on your mind."

Ryan lets out a soft sigh. He's not used to talking about what's on his mind, let alone sharing his feelings. "I was just thinking about a friend..."

"Does this friend have a name?"

"Theresa," Ryan replies with a hint of sadness in his voice. "She's my neighbor... well, used to be my neighbor..."

Sandy suddenly realizes the problem. He should have seen it coming. The boy is homesick. He's been taken away from his friends and his life in Chino. Maybe it wasn't the greatest life, but it was his life.

"I'm afraid if she finds me gone, she might worry... you know," Ryan says quietly, looking down at the shirt as he continues to run his hand over the soft fabric. "I don't want her to worry..."

"Then you should call her," Sandy states, understanding the boy's concern. "After you take a shower, call her. Let her know where you are and that you're safe."

"Really? It would be okay if I called her?"

"Of course," Sandy replies. "And if there's anyone else you want to call, then do so. You don't need our permission."

"Theresa's really the only one I can think of right now," Ryan says quietly, his voice drifting away.

Sandy notices Ryan still looking a bit melancholy, his thoughts seemingly elsewhere.

"I did contact your brother," Sandy says. "He needed to know what has happened and that Kirsten and I are now your legal guardians."

"You talked to Trey?" Ryan asks, perking up slightly. "How... how did he sound?"

"Oh, well... like someone who's facing a year or two in prison," Sandy replies with honesty. "But he's relieved you're safe and living here with us."

Sandy notices the boy lower his head, trying to mask a look of concern.

"If you ever want to call your brother, let me know," Sandy says. "There are specific days the inmates are allowed non-emergency phone calls."

Sandy detects an uneasiness emanate from the boy. He knows Ryan's relationship with his brother must be a complicated one; probably close and nurturing at one point in their past, now a kinship filled with emotional turmoil and strife.

"And if you ever want to visit him, let me know," Sandy continues. "Because you're a minor, I will have to go with you. You would also probably need some identification. A school ID or birth certificate..."

"I still have my school ID from Chino High," Ryan says, relieved he didn't lose his wallet in the fire.

"That will do," Sandy says, offering up a reassuring smile.

Ryan suddenly feels a weight taken off his shoulders. The uneasy feeling in his stomach has dissipated; his heart no longer feeling heavy in his chest. He unconsciously hugs the soft Henley shirt close to his body as he begins walking out into the hallway towards the bathroom. He stops at the threshold of his new bedroom and turns his head; a small, appreciative smile gracing his face.

"Thanks, Sandy."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.

 **A/N:** This story is  AU and begins after Luke carries Ryan out of the burning building.

 **Finally the chapter that explains why I chose the title for my story. Please keep in mind, I originally set out to write this as a one-shot and it's now chapter six. I'm trying my best to stretch this out. :-)**

 **One of my goals with this story is to evolve Luke and have him take responsibility for his actions. I do not want to just toss him away. I feel that would be a waste. When Luke did become friends with Ryan on the show, I felt it was a very plausible relationship. I want to touch upon that possibility of a friendship in this story.**

 **Before I even began writing this story, I did a lot of research on the charges and what punishment would most likely be doled out in Luke's situation. I know some readers may not like the punishment but I want to keep my story at least somewhat realistic. It's also what needs to happen for the way I've planned this story to end.**

 **I'm happy that many readers want to see more Kirsten and Ryan time. As my story description states, it's about "caring Cohen's". Since Ryan is now living with the Cohen's, I've planned for more interaction between Ryan and Kirsten. :-)**

 **Thank you for all the feedback and support. I really appreciate it!**

Chapter Six

Ryan steps into the spacious bathroom and quietly closes the door. He places his new shirt on the marble-top vanity and looks around. The first thing he notices is the large shower with glass doors and stone tile in warm earth tones.

 _I bet there aren't any grungy old fiberglass showers in this house,_ Ryan thinks to himself as he begins to slowly peel off the clothes he felt he just put on a little while ago.

As he sheds his gray hoodie, he catches sight of a new toothbrush in a small tumbler next to a tube of toothpaste. Alongside the mirror are other toiletries placed neatly in a basket; a new razor, a can of shaving cream, a stick of deodorant and a comb. A small card with the words "for Ryan" leans strategically in front of the basket. Ryan can't help but smile.

 _Thanks, Kirsten._

Suddenly there's a knock on the door, causing Ryan to jump slightly. He opens the door a crack and sees Sandy getting ready to knock again.

"Is everything alright?" Ryan asks with concern.

Sandy is taken aback for a moment by Ryan's inquiry for he was going to ask him that very same question.

"Oh, everything's fine," Sandy replies. "I just wanted to know if you needed any help."

"No, I'm fine," Ryan says.

"Are you sure? It's okay to ask for help."

"No, I'm fine... really..."

Ryan looks at Sandy inquisitively, noting the man's thick, bushy eyebrows and how they frame his blue-gray eyes. Eyes that emanate warmth and kindness, now widened, looking straight at him; longing to help.

"Well... um..." Ryan hesitates, glancing down at the floor. "Maybe I could use some help getting my shoes and socks off."

"Here, why don't you sit down," Sandy says, eagerly guiding the boy over to the side of the bathtub.

Ryan sits down on the thick, stone rim of the bathtub, noting the spacious size and the water jets.

 _A jacuzzi,_ Ryan thinks to himself. _If I wasn't covered in bruises, that would feel heavenly._

Sandy kneels down in front of Ryan and diligently begins untying the boy's shoes.

"You know, I have a pair of mules you can borrow," Sandy says as he carefully takes off the boy's shoes and socks.

Ryan looks at Sandy, totally dumbfounded. He's pretty certain the man isn't offering him a couple of stubborn pack animals, but then again, he hasn't known Sandy for very long. He supposes anything is possible at this point.

Sandy smiles when he sees the boy's perplexed reaction. "Lounging slippers. They're open in the back, like clogs. You can slip them on and off... super comfortable."

Ryan offers up a small, appreciative smile. "Thanks."

Sandy stands back up and waits a moment, giving the boy time to ask for more help if he needs it. When he hears only silence he begins making his way out of the bathroom.

"I'll be close by if you need anything," Sandy states earnestly. "If you need any help, anything at all, please ask."

"Okay... thanks, Sandy."

* * *

"Carson, what's going on?" Meredith asks frantically as she steps into the interrogation room. "The police were at the house looking through Luke's bedroom and his truck. They had a search warrant."

"I know, settle down sweetheart," Carson says, exasperated as he places his arm around his wife's shoulders.

"What will the neighbors think!"

"Really Meredith?" Carson retorts. "Our son's been arrested and all you're worried about is what the neighbors might think?"

"Please, if you would both sit down, we have a lot to discuss," Bob Cameron states, taking a seat at the table across from Luke.

Carson and Meredith sit down at the table with their son, eager to hear what their attorney has to say.

"Bob, can you help us? Can you help Luke?" Carson asks, unable to hide the desperation in his voice.

Bob Cameron takes some papers out of his briefcase and sighs. He's known this family for years. They're good people. But he also knows that sometimes even good people will do bad things.

"First of all, let me tell you that the charge of misdemeanor assault automatically carries a one year sentence..."

Meredith gasps in horror as she places her arm around her son's slouching shoulders.

"The State Prosecutor has offered a deal. It's a one-time only deal. He will not budge. He's made it very clear he will not negotiate."

"What's the deal?" Carson asks.

"Because this is Luke's first offense, he's willing to drop all the other charges if Luke pleads guilty to the assault of Ryan Atwood."

"But then he'll go the prison!" Meredith cries out.

"Please, let me finish," Bob pleads, holding his hand up to stop the mother from saying anything more. "The deal on the table is this: Luke pleads guilty to misdemeanor assault. He'll receive two years probation along with one-hundred hours of community service. He will also have to pay restitution..."

"Resti what?" Luke asks, finally breaking his silence.

"You, or in this case, your parents, will pay for all medical expenses Ryan has incurred as a result of the assault," the attorney explains. "The judge may decide to tack on more for pain and suffering. Also, you will have to attend anger management classes and last but not least, Luke is to write a formal apology to Ryan."

"This sucks!" Luke cries out. "A hundred hours of community service? I'll be pickin' up stinkin' garbage every weekend for at least a year!"

"I know this is a bitter pill for you to swallow, but..."

"You're damn fuckin' straight it is!" Luke spits out. "Bitter pill... shit, this sucks!"

"What are the conditions of his parole?" Carson asks calmly, trying to keep his wits about him.

"No alcohol or drugs... basically no arrests, and Luke cannot get into any fights," Bob replies. "If he violates his parole, he will automatically be remanded to the juvenile detention facility until he reaches the age of eighteen. After that, he will then have to serve the full year in the adult penitentiary for the misdemeanor assault."

Bob Cameron looks at the three family members sitting silently, most likely stunned and still very confused.

"Let me also add that if Luke does not accept this deal, the prosecutor intends to petition the court to have Luke tried as an adult."

"But he's only sixteen!" Meredith laments.

"Because the evidence shows that the assault was premeditated, he feels charging Luke as an adult is justified," Bob explains.

"How in the world do they know it was premeditated," Meredith asks. "Can they read my son's mind?"

"Luke's friends have cut a deal in exchange for their testimony in the event this case goes to trial," Bob says. "They both will testify that the assault was all Luke's idea."

"They're full of shit," Luke spits out, unhappy with the lack of loyalty his friends are showing. He's beginning to wonder if they ever really were his friends.

"What kind of deal did they get?" Carson asks.

"They both agreed to serve six months in a juvenile detention center followed by a six month probation," Bob replies. "If they violate their probation, they will be remanded back to juvie until they reach the age of eighteen."

"You're my lawyer. You're supposed to defend me!" Luke cries out. Clearly his so-called "friends" have deserted him. He's hoping his attorney hasn't done the same.

"Yes, I am your lawyer and I will defend you to the best of my ability if this goes to trial," Bob states calmly. "But, as your lawyer, I must also give you the best and most sound legal advice your money, or in this case your parent's money, can buy."

Bob Cameron leans in towards Luke, folds his hands atop the table and looks the teenager straight in his eye.

"And my best, most sound legal advice to you, Luke, is to take this deal."

* * *

Ryan reaches into the shower and turns on the water, then finishes peeling off the rest of his clothing. He steps into the spacious stall and groans softly, welcoming the hot spray upon his chest. He reaches for the bar of soap and slowly runs the pleasant smelling cleanser over his face and through his hair.

 _Vanilla... sandalwood..._

He continues to lather up his body as the stench of burnt ash and hospital disinfectant slowly trickles down the drain. Ryan groans again as he breathes in the clean scent and soothing steam. He leans in closer, allowing the spray of hot water to rinse his face and hair. He lowers his head forward so the water will run down his aching back.

Suddenly, Ryan arches his lower back as the hot water hits his raw, scraped skin; a searing pain like a hot iron being pressed onto his body. He hisses and curses under his breath as he quickly shuts off the water. He leans his forehead against the stone tile and with his eyes closed he sighs to himself...

 _Even a shower is painful._

Ryan steps out of the shower and immediately begins shivering as the cooler air hits his wet skin. He quickly grabs the soft, plump cotton towel and begins drying himself off. He turns his body to look at his lower back in the mirror. He notes the raw redness of his skin but is relieved the bandage stayed in place over the small puncture wound. Ryan wraps the towel around his waist and grabs the new Henley shirt Kirsten bought for him. Carefully, he pulls the shirt over his head and threads his arms through the long sleeves. Ryan glances at himself in the mirror as he pulls and tugs the blue shirt down over his bruised rib cage.

Ryan stops dressing and stands completely still. He stares at his pale reflection; the bruising on his cheekbone now becoming a dark purple, and sighs under his breath...

"It's alright. I've been through worse..."

* * *

"Well, what if I don't wanna take the deal?" Luke asks his lawyer. "It's a shitty deal."

"It's an extremely generous deal, especially with all the evidence the prosecutor has against you," Bob replies. "If we go to trial, Luke, we will not win."

"There must be something you can do," Meredith says, her voice fraught with concern. "Some type of defense that could prove Luke is innocent."

"Well, there is one thing," Bob says, his voice hesitating as he finds himself actually considering the implausible defense. "I could argue that Luke suffers from affluenza."

"That sounds like some disease!" Luke cries out. "I'm not sick."

"What in the world is 'affluenza'?" Carson asks.

"The word was coined back in the 1950's. I could try to argue that due to Luke's privileged upbringing, he may not be responsible for his actions," Bob explains.

"That sounds utterly ridiculous!" Carson exclaims.

"I agree and the psychological community does not recognize it as a true mental disorder," Bob continues. "It would be a really tough sell."

"But it's possible?" Meredith asks, her voice sounding a little more hopeful.

Bob shakes his head and sighs. "My honest opinion? Not in this case. I just don't see it. If the assault was spontaneous, for example if Luke was drunk at a party and saw Ryan hitting on his girlfriend, then maybe. But even so, trying to find a shrink who will get up on the witness stand and argue an affluenza defense... that'll cost a hell of a lot of money. Plus, for my one so-called 'expert' witness, the prosecutor will be able to bring in ten to rebut the testimony."

"But it would be a defense," Luke states, not quite sure if he actually believes in it but is willing, none the less.

"Luke, both you and your parents have asked me to defend you against the charges brought against you," the lawyer states solemnly. "And again, I will tell you that if this goes to trial, we will not win."

"But... why not?" Luke implores.

"This is what will happen." Bob Cameron clears his throat and sits up straight in his chair as he prepares to dole out the truth to the teenager.

"After opening arguments, the prosecution will bring out their first witnesses, most likely the two joggers who saw you carry Ryan from the building then drop him on the ground before fleeing to your truck."

"Yeah, but..."

"And I will cross examine by stating that it was dark and the air was clouded with smoke. How could they possibly be one-hundred percent certain it was you," Bob continues.

"That's right! It was dark!" Luke says in total agreement.

"And the prosecution will end pointing out that the description the witness gave to police fit your description to a T. They also gave your exact license plate."

Bob Cameron takes in a deep breath as he gets ready to continue. "Next, the prosecution will call to the witness stand none other than Sheriff Ray Hicks, possibly the most well-respected sheriff Orange County has ever had. There's not one crooked bone in that man's tall, lanky frame."

"There's gotta be something," Luke says. "Nobody's perfect."

"Sheriff Hicks is not on trial. You are," Bob reminds the teenager.

Luke slouches down in his chair and sighs, preparing himself for the forthcoming lecture.

"Sheriff Hicks will testify regarding all the evidence his department has uncovered; from the surveillance footage placing your truck at the scene, the evidence collected from the search of your house, to the statement Ryan gave at the hospital."

"You know, Atwood's got a record," Luke pipes in. "He stole a car..."

"Ryan's not on trial. You are," Bob again reminds the teenager. "Whatever trouble Ryan has allegedly been in is irrelevant. He has his own lawyer to handle any issues he may have with the law."

"Whatever..."

"But the real kicker will be when pictures of Ryan get passed around to the jury members. Pictures taken of him, placed into evidence, when he was first brought into the ER showing his bruised face and body," Bob continues. "Believe me, there will be parents... mothers and fathers, on that jury panel. The two minutes it will take for those pictures to be passed around will seem like two hours. And the silence will be deafening, except for the occasional gasp and whimper."

Luke leans forward and places his elbows on the table, burying his face in his hands as he lets out a long, frustrated sigh.

"Lastly, the prosecution will call to the stand your two buddies who will say the assault was all your idea because you were jealous of Ryan."

"I didn't want to hurt him so badly... just scare him..."

"Luke saved that boy from the fire though," Meredith says, placing her hand on her son's back.

"And closing arguments will most likely revolve around that," Bob says. "I will certainly end with the fact that Luke went back and carried Ryan out of the burning building."

"I sense a 'but' coming," Luke says, his voice tired and dull.

"But the prosecution will raise this question," Bob says, softening his voice slightly but still looking intently at the teenager. "If you really wanted to save Ryan, why did you dump him next to a burning building and run, knowing he was unconscious?"

"I... I panicked."

"Why didn't you carry Ryan to your truck and call 911 or bring him to the hospital yourself?"

"I... I got scared..."

"You fled the scene because you knew what you did was wrong," Bob states emphatically.

"Enough!" Carson says, his voice firm but laced with a hint of sadness.

"Dad?"

"I said that's enough," Carson reiterates. "There's not going to be any trial. You are not going to drag this family, or the Cohen's and certainly not that boy through a trial. You, son, are going to take responsibility for what you did."

"But, Dad..."

"No buts, Luke. This ends now."

Luke looks at his father and sees the disappointment on his face; the pain and hurt in his eyes. He looks at his mother as she discreetly attempts to wipe away her tears.

"I'm sorry Mom... Dad," Luke says softly as tears well up in his eyes. "I'm so sorry..."

Carson hears his son's words. He listens and knows they are genuine. He then turns and looks at their attorney with confidence, satisfied that his son is finally showing remorse.

"Bob, inform the State Prosecutor... Luke will take his deal."

* * *

Ryan slowly finishes dressing and hangs the bath towel neatly back on the towel rack. He then brushes his teeth and runs the comb through his damp hair, trying to make himself look as presentable as possible.

 _This will have to do..._

Ryan opens the bathroom door and walks back to his new bedroom. He sees Sandy folding and putting clothes away in the dresser and wonders if the man actually stayed nearby this entire time like he said he would.

"Hey, how was your shower?" Sandy asks, keeping his voice upbeat. He knows if he asks the kid how he's doing, he'll most likely reply with 'I'm fine'."

"It was fine," Ryan replies.

Sandy smiles and shakes his head as he closes the dresser drawer.

"Knock, knock!" Kirsten announces, tapping her knuckles lightly on the bedroom door. "May I come in?"

Kirsten makes her way into the bedroom, carrying a first-aid kit and a jar of ointment.

"Sweetheart, what's all this?" Sandy asks with a grin, knowing Ryan may be in for a bit of "mothering".

"Well, I read through the doctor's instructions again and I wanted to make sure the bandage on Ryan's back doesn't need changing," Kirsten explains. "I also brought some ointment to put on his scrapes. This will protect his skin and help it heal faster."

Ryan stands dumbfounded between Sandy and Kirsten, not quite sure what to say or do.

"Why don't you sit down," Kirsten says, guiding the boy over to the bed. "Can you lift your shirt up a little?"

"I'm alright, Kirsten. I can put the ointment on myself..."

"I'm sure you can," Kirsten interrupts. "But I want to check the bandage and make sure everything looks okay."

Ryan looks over at Sandy hoping for guidance. He sees the man pointing at Kirsten while mouthing the words "Mom mode". Ryan immediately does as he's told and lifts his shirt up a few inches.

Kirsten looks at Ryan's lower back and notes how red and inflamed the scrapes are. She immediately grimaces. "It must have been painful taking a shower."

"It wasn't that bad," Ryan replies, not wanting the woman to worry. He knows the next time he takes a shower, he'll make the water a little cooler.

Kirsten checks the bandage and sees it's waterproof and still very much intact. She then opens the jar of ointment and removes a large dollop with her fingers.

"When I was nine... maybe ten, I remember it was a hot summer day. I was riding my bike and had shorts on," Kirsten reminisces as she begins to gently dab the ointment over the boy's raw, scraped skin. "When I rode up the driveway, I hit the curb wrong and wiped out. I fell off my bike and scraped my outer thigh."

Kirsten continues to massage the ointment on Ryan's lower back, making sure she doesn't press her fingers into his skin too deeply.

"When I took a shower, I remember how painful it was when the hot water hit the scrapes on my thigh," Kirsten continues. "It felt like a hot iron was being pressed onto my skin."

Ryan glances over at Kirsten and admits, "Well, maybe it was a little uncomfortable."

Kirsten laughs quietly to herself. She knows that's as much acknowledgment as she'll probably get from the boy, but at least it's something.

Sandy stands off to the side with his arms folded and a large grin plastered across his face. He's enjoying watching his wife interact with Ryan and notes the boy becoming more relaxed in her presence.

 _Small steps, kid... You can trust us._

"There, how does that feel?" Kirsten asks, wiping her fingers off with some kleenex before replacing the lid on the jar of ointment.

"It feels... it really feels a lot better," Ryan replies earnestly. He can already feel the inflammation and pain fading away. "But, maybe I should change my shirt..."

"Don't worry about your shirt. The ointment won't stain and it will easily wash out," Kirsten says.

Ryan pulls his shirt back down and tries to stifle a yawn.

"I'll leave the jar on your nightstand," Kirsten says, placing the ointment next to Ryan's bed. "You can use as much as you like."

"Mmm... 'kay..." Ryan mumbles as he attempts to hold back another yawn. "Thank you, Kirsten."

"You're very welcome," Kirsten replies with a smile. She notices the boy struggling not to yawn and immediately becomes concerned. "You must be exhausted. Maybe you should lie down and take a nap. We won't be eating dinner for at least another three hours."

"A nap sounds great," Ryan says as he lies down on the bed. He barely slept at the hospital and the thought of a little shuteye sounds most welcoming. When his head hits the plump, soft pillow, he immediately begins to drift off to sleep.

Kirsten grabs a cozy afghan off the end of the bed and carefully covers the boy. She then places her hand over his forehead, checking to see if he feels too warm.

 _He feels normal,_ Kirsten thinks to herself as she brushes the boy's bangs off his forehead. _No fever... that's good._

"Well done, Mrs. Cohen. I don't suppose you have another jar of that ointment in our bedroom," Sandy says playfully, placing his arm around Kirsten's shoulders as they walk out of Ryan's bedroom. "Because I wouldn't mind a little..."

"Stop it! Shush!" Kirsten interrupts in a hushed voice, not wanting to disturb the boy. She softly slaps her husband on his chest and tries to control her laughter. "You are so bad..."

"I know," Sandy says in agreement, wiggling his big, bushy eyebrows up and down a couple of times. "And have I told you lately how much I love you?"

Kirsten rests her head upon her husband's shoulder and smiles. "You can always tell me. I never get tired of hearing it."

"I love you, sweetheart... and thank you."

"Thank me, for what?" Kirsten inquires, turning to look at her husband.

"Thank you for helping Ryan feel at home," Sandy says. "He needs this... a home. But he also needs us." Sandy embraces his wife and gives her a loving hug. "Ryan needs a family."

"Then a family he shall have," Kirsten says softly.

Sandy smiles and peeks his head into the room to check on Ryan one more time.

 _Sound asleep,_ Sandy thinks to himself, looking at the slumbering boy. _We'll be here, Ryan. When you wake up, your family will be here..._


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.

 **A/N:** This story is  AU and begins after Luke carries Ryan out of the burning building.

 **The first four lines in this chapter are from the Pilot episode, or very close to it. (I haven't watched the show in years, so my memory may be a little fuzzy). The rest of the words are mine. :-)**

 **After reading through the last batch of reviews, I feel a lot of readers will be disappointed with the story I'm writing. This is not going to be a long, drawn out medical drama. This story is about Luke and his coming to terms with what he did to Ryan and seeing Ryan in a different light. I also want to show Ryan adapting to his new surroundings (something I felt was skipped over in the series) as well as healing, both physically and emotionally. This will include not only the help from Sandy, but also Kirsten and Seth.**

 **This story is AU. I'm writing the events differently than how they were handled on the show. I'm also writing Kirsten and Luke the way I wished they had been written. This is why, I believe, most of us writing fanfiction is the reason why we're writing fanfiction. :-)**

 **I hope you'll all keep an open mind and see this story through to the end with me.**

 **Thank you for all the feedback and support. I really appreciate it!**

Chapter Seven

 _"I can't do this anymore, Ryan."_

 _"I'm sorry, Mom..."_

 _"I want you out of my house! I want you out!"_

 _"But, Mom... where am I supposed to go?"_

 _The boy watches in horror as the enraged, intoxicated woman grabs an open bottle of vodka and hurls it violently across the room. The glass shatters into pieces as flames suddenly ignite against the paint-chipped wall; a swirling hot fire in colors of red, orange and yellow engulfing the small living room. The fire is fierce with its sharp, burning tips lashing out in anger at the terrified boy. He screams out in agony as the hot fire singes his flesh. Flames spew up from the floor; the roar of the fire deafening as it relentlessly burns everything in its path. The heat becomes overwhelming as the fire consumes what little oxygen is left in the room..._

"Mom... no!" Ryan gasps in a state of panic, urgently sucking in air as he struggles to open his eyes, willing himself out of his nightmare. Ryan feels his heart beating rapidly as perspiration beads upon his forehead. The boy glances frantically around the room, grasping the soft afghan in his bruised hands. He closes his eyes tightly, then opens them, trying desperately to take control of his breathing and calm himself down.

 _Where am I?_

His eyes dart around the strange room in confusion, trying to make some sense of where he is...

 _Am I home? This isn't my bedroom..._

Ryan slowly begins to calm himself down, realizing his nightmare was only that... just a bad dream.

 _I'm at the Cohen's... this is my new bedroom..._

Ryan gingerly pushes himself up into a sitting position, holding his bruised rib cage; wincing as he moves. He then flings the afghan off his body and carefully swings his legs over the edge of the bed. He sits there for a few minutes, trying to steady his breathing and get a sense of his surroundings. He wipes the perspiration off his forehead, then runs his hand over his beleaguered face.

 _My house didn't burn down... the model home burned down..._

Ryan sighs softly to himself, "I burned down the model home."

Ryan glances down at the floor and sees Sandy's slippers next to the bed. Suddenly, he hears a loud noise from the room next door. Ryan takes in a deep breath and shakes off his bad dream. He slips the comfortable shoes onto his feet and makes his way towards the racket.

"Is everything alright?" Ryan asks as he peeks his head inside Seth's bedroom. He notes how clean the room is now, a far cry from the chaotic mess Sandy had showed him earlier.

"No, everything is not alright," Seth replies with exasperation as he slams his desk drawer shut. "I can't find it. I can't find anything!"

"I don't understand," Ryan says as he warily enters the bedroom.

"I had to clean my room... under duress, I might add, and now I can't find anything!" Seth cries out. "I'm looking for my sketchpad..."

Ryan glances around the tidy room and spots a sketchpad underneath a plastic toy horse, laying on an end table next to the bed.

"Is this what you're looking for?" Ryan asks, removing the sketchpad from underneath the horse, deciding it would probably be best to ask about the toy's significance some other day.

"Hey, that's it! You found it!" Seth exclaims gleefully, snatching the small sketchpad from the hand of his very helpful friend. "I guess it was hiding in plain sight."

Seth suddenly becomes less exuberant when he notices the bruises on Ryan's hands and face. They seem much darker now than when he was at the hospital.

 _Hopefully it's a sign of healing..._

Seth places his sketchpad down on his desk and sighs, "I'm sorry, Ryan... I am so sorry."

Ryan becomes confused, not understanding why his friend is apologizing.

"It's all my fault, you know. I should've done something else but I didn't want you to run away."

"It's alright, Seth..."

"I talked to Grandpa..."

"You talked to Caleb?" Ryan asks, suddenly feeling apprehensive. "Your grandfather must hate me."

"No, I don't think he hates you," Seth replies. "He doesn't even know you. But he sure was upset."

"Upset at me, no doubt..."

"No, upset at me," Seth clarifies. "He was angry because I hid you in his model home. He told me I should have just let you run away. Oh.. um... sorry... I didn't mean that to come out... you know, that way..."

"Are you boys alright?" Sandy asks, peeking inside his son's bedroom.

"Fine, Dad... just hunky-dory," Seth replies, happy for the escape from the uncomfortable conversation.

"It's almost time for dinner," Sandy states. "Ryan, why don't you come with me. Kirsten is handling the take-out and I could use some help setting the table."

"Sure," Ryan replies, happy to help.

"What about me?" Seth asks.

"You've been cleaning your room all afternoon," Sandy replies. "You should wash up. Then see if your mother needs any help."

"Roger that," Seth says as he makes a beeline towards the bathroom.

As Ryan walks with Sandy downstairs to the dining room, he notices a magazine on a table, opened up to a page showing a microscopic picture of a yellowish gray insect.

"What in the world is that?" Ryan asks, stopping to take a closer look.

" _Dermatophagoides farina_ ," Sandy replies. "The American house dust mite."

"Well, it sounds like someone is ready to try out for _Jeopardy_ ," Kirsten states lightheartedly, walking into the room holding dinner plates and cloth napkins.

"I'm not sure I understand," Ryan says, finding himself fascinated by the hideous-looking creature. "Are you all interested in bugs?"

"When you went upstairs with Sandy after we got home, I had to give Seth some incentive to clean his bedroom," Kirsten explains. "So I showed him that picture of a dust mite."

"Ooh, honey... that was devious," Sandy says, grinning with delight.

"I know," Kirsten says, smiling in agreement.

"Did it work?" Ryan asks, trying to keep himself from smiling.

"Oh yes... it worked like a charm," Kirsten acknowledges, pleased with herself. "You've never seen a kid grab a vacuum cleaner and dust cloth so fast in your entire life."

"Talking about me again?" Seth asks as he saunters into the dining room.

"Ah, you're just in time," Kirsten says with a warm smile. "Wong's take-out is about ready to be served."

Sandy puts his arms around both boy's shoulders, a feeling of pride and contentment filling his heart. "Well, then... we can't keep Wong's waiting. Let's eat!"

* * *

Luke signs his name at the bottom of his letter of apology to Ryan. He then folds the paper and hands it over to his attorney.

"I'll give this to Sheriff Hicks," Bob Cameron says, placing the letter in an envelope. "He'll make sure Ryan receives it."

"So, what happens next?" Luke asks. He feels his mother's warm hand placed gently upon his forearm and his father's hand perched firmly upon his shoulder. He's relieved by their presence and appreciates their support.

Luke suddenly finds himself thinking about Ryan and why the kid would even need to live with the Cohen's. Where are his mother and father?

 _Everyone has parents,_ Luke thinks to himself. _Maybe they're dead... or maybe he just has really crappy parents..._

"The hearing is set for first thing tomorrow morning. We're second on the docket, so we won't have to wait long."

"That's a relief," Carson states as he gently squeezes his son's shoulder.

"What happens then?" Luke asks, suddenly finding himself becoming nervous.

"When your case is called, we'll take our places at the tables. You and I will sit at the table on the left and the State Prosecutor will be at the table on the right," Bob explains. "The judge will then ask you to stand."

"Where will my mom and dad be?"

"They'll be sitting in the courtroom. I'll try to arrange for them to sit as close to the front as possible," Bob says, reassuring his young client.

"Then what happens?"

"The judge will read the charge, in this case, misdemeanor assault. He will then ask you how you plead and you will reply..."

"Guilty," Luke states quietly.

"Guilty..." Bob says gently, gesturing with his hand that something more needs to be said.

"Guilty, your Honor."

"Good," Bob says with a reassuring smile. "Next, the judge will read you the plea agreement. He'll go over every detail so listen to him very carefully."

"I will..."

"The judge will then ask you if you understand the terms of the plea agreement and you will reply..."

"I do... I mean... yes... I do, your Honor."

"Good," Bob states, happy the teenager is catching on. "Then the judge will ask if I accept the plea agreement and I'll tell him that I do. He'll ask the same of the prosecutor."

"But why? He's the one who came up with the deal," Luke says.

"Because in a court of law, everything must be recorded," Bob replies. "Once the judge deems we are all in agreement, he will make his ruling."

"And then I'll be free to go?" Luke asks.

"Yes, but before you're dismissed, the judge will most likely give you a short lecture," Bob says. "This is your first offense and he'll most likely want to make sure it's your last. Pay attention. Be respectful and maintain eye contact. Listen to what he has to say, Luke."

"I'll listen," Luke promises as he watches his lawyer begin to leave the room. "Um... Mr. Cameron?"

"Yes, Luke?" Bob inquires as he stands in the threshold of the doorway.

"Thank you."

Bob Cameron looks at his young client and smiles. "You're very welcome, Luke."

* * *

Ryan finishes eating his sweet and sour chicken, then devours one more egg roll. He hadn't realized how hungry he was, but since the last time he ate was this morning at the hospital, he was ready for some real food.

"This was really good," Ryan says, wiping his hands off on his napkin.

"I'll be sure to let Li Wong know you liked the food," Kirsten says.

"And I appreciate you letting me use a fork," Ryan adds, having never mastered the art of using chopsticks.

"When your hands are healed, I'll teach you to use chopsticks," Kirsten says with an encouraging smile. "I don't know why, but Chinese take-out just tastes better when eaten with chopsticks."

"Thanks. I've always wanted to learn how to use them."

"I remember when I was learning how to use chopsticks," Seth pipes in as he finishes his spicy General Tso's chicken. "I think I came close to starving to death. Most of the food ended up on the floor and in my lap."

"And look at you now, son," Sandy states with a wide grin. "You're a pro."

"Ryan, now that you've had something to eat, you should take some pain medicine," Kirsten says.

"Okay, is it in the bathroom?" Ryan inquires as he begins to gather his dishes to bring into the kitchen.

"I put the bottle of Motrin next to the kitchen sink," Kirsten answers, watching the boy diligently cleaning up his side of the table. She doesn't think Seth has ever done that, at least not without first being told to do so.

"And you can leave your dishes," Sandy states, not wanting Ryan to hold too much since he still needs to ice his hands.

"Really? Are you sure?" Ryan asks, double-checking. "I'm going into the kitchen..."

"I'm sure," Sandy states. "Besides, Seth is in charge of clearing the table and cleaning up tonight."

"But, I already cleaned my room," Seth points out in protest, watching Ryan leave his dishes on the dining room table and walk away into the kitchen.

"And a fine job you did," Sandy compliments. "In fact, you did such a wonderful job cleaning your bedroom, I'm confident you'll do an equally fine job with the dinner dishes."

Seth folds his arms over his chest and sulks down in his chair, wondering if he'll ever be able to play video games again.

Sandy, Kirsten and Seth are suddenly startled when they hear a loud crash. They all jump out of their seats and rush into the kitchen.

"I'm sorry... I am so sorry... it was an accident," Ryan immediately begins to explain, crawling on his hands and knees to quickly pick up shards of glass off the floor.

"Ryan, it's alright," Sandy states, watching as the boy frantically picks up the broken pieces of glass.

"I didn't mean to... I... I was reaching for a g... glass from the cabinet," Ryan explains, his voice shaking as he continues to collect the sharp glass fragments with his hands. "M... my elbow knocked over the w... w... wine glass. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to... honestly... I didn't mean to break anything..."

"Ryan, I said it was okay," Sandy says, walking towards the distressed boy. Sandy immediately stops dead in his tracks. He looks down in dismay and sees the boy now cowering on his knees; his arms raised up over his head defensively, as if trying to protect himself.

"I'm really sorry. I swear, it was an accident..."

 _He thinks I'm going to hit him,_ Sandy thinks to himself. _My god, the kid thinks I'm going to beat him._

Kirsten notices blood begin to trickle off the end of one of Ryan's fingers as the boy's hand tightly clenches a sharp piece of glass. She can see him shaking... trembling in a state of panic and fear.

"Ryan, it's okay," Kirsten says very softly, not wanting to alarm the boy any more than he already is. She gently places her arm around his waist and helps him up to a standing position. Slowly, she guides him over to the kitchen sink and places his bloodied hand in the basin.

"Seth, can you get the first-aid kit please?" Kirsten asks gently, keeping herself calm. "It's in the upstairs bathroom in the lower cabinet."

"I'm on it," Seth states as he hurries out of the kitchen and up the stairs, determined to complete his mission.

"I am really so sorry..."

"Sshhh... it's alright, Ryan," Kirsten reassures as she turns on the faucet and places the boy's bloodied hand under the running water.

"Ryan, let us help you," Sandy says, carefully prying the boy's hand open to remove a large shard of glass.

"You're not m... mad at me?" Ryan asks, glancing first at Sandy then at Kirsten.

"No, of course not," Sandy says. "It was an accident."

"Here's the first-aid kit," Seth announces as he carefully steps into the kitchen, tiptoeing around the broken pieces of glass.

"Thank you," Kirsten says. "Now could you go and get a broom and dust pan? They should be in the garage."

"On it," Seth says, happy he can be of some help.

"Oh no... my shirt," Ryan bemoans. "I ruined my new shirt."

Kirsten looks closely and sees a few bloodstains on the right cuff of the Henley shirt.

"You didn't ruin your shirt, Ryan," Kirsten assures, turning the faucet to the cold setting. She places the cuff under the running water and gently rubs the blood out of the fabric. "See? Just a little cold water is all it takes. And if I've missed any spots, a little hydrogen peroxide always does the trick."

Kirsten notes the boy beginning to relax a little as the tension slowly eases from his shoulders.

"But I think your hand might need a couple of stitches, though," Kirsten adds.

"No, I'll be fine. Really, I don't need stitches," Ryan says. He feels like he was just at the hospital. He doesn't want to go back. And he certainly doesn't want Sandy and Kirsten spending their Sunday evening in the ER just because he has a couple of cuts on his hand.

Sandy dries Ryan's hands with paper toweling and places a sterile pad over the deepest wound. He holds the pad in place as Kirsten wraps gauze around his hand, tucking in the end to secure the bandage.

"I agree with Kirsten," Sandy says. "There's one gash that looks pretty deep. A doctor really should take a look at it."

Ryan sighs and looks down at the now bloodied gauze covering his hand. "I really am so sorry."

"Everything's going to be alright," Sandy says, hoping his words will have some reassurance for the boy.

"I found the broom and dustpan," Seth says, walking back into the kitchen.

"We need to bring Ryan to the ER," Kirsten tells her son as she grabs her cell phone and keys off the counter. "Could you clean..."

"Say no more," Seth interrupts, holding his hand up to stop his mother from speaking any further. "When you guys get home, the dishes will be clean and the kitchen will be spotless."

"Thank you," Kirsten says, quickly placing an appreciative kiss on the top of her son's head.

Sandy and Kirsten guide Ryan out to the garage and help him into the Rover.

"Could you drive, honey?" Kirsten asks as she slides into the backseat with Ryan to help the boy fasten his seat belt. "I had a glass of wine at dinner..."

"Sure, no problem," Sandy says, taking his wife's car keys. Sandy looks in the rear view mirror and checks to make sure both his backseat passengers are buckled in. As he makes the drive back to Hoag, he can't get his mind off of Ryan's reaction to a simple accident.

 _How many times have there been "accidents" when the kid was growing up,_ Sandy thinks to himself. _And how many times was Ryan blamed then punished?_

Kirsten glances over at Ryan and sees the boy staring solemnly out the side window. She feels her heart begin to ache, thinking about what just transpired in the kitchen a mere ten minutes ago.

 _He was so distraught... so apologetic... over what? A broken wine glass?_

Kirsten suddenly finds herself envisioning Ryan as a little boy... a child of maybe five or six... sitting at the dinner table with his family.

 _Maybe you accidentally spilled your milk,_ Kirsten thinks to herself.

Kirsten shudders at the thought of what may have happened; what most likely happened. His parents becoming angry, maybe even enraged. Blaming the child for an accident that occurs at every family's dinner table at least once. She remembers when Seth was little. He would reach over the table to grab the salt and every time he would knock over his glass of milk. It took a few "accidents" before Seth finally learned to ask someone to pass him the salt. But she never remembers getting mad or upset at her son. She and Sandy would just take the situation and turn it into a "teaching moment".

Ryan sits and stares out the car window. He can't believe he lost control. He lost control of his emotions in front of Sandy; in front of everyone. What must they think? So, he broke a wine glass. They didn't seem upset. In fact, they didn't seem upset at all.

 _They didn't get mad at me..._

Ryan lets out a soft, plaintive sigh. _I need to be stronger and stay more in control, otherwise I'm just going to make their lives miserable._

* * *

Seth finishes putting the dinner dishes in the dishwasher when he hears a knock on the front door. He quickly dries his hands and makes his way into the foyer to find out who could be visiting on a Sunday evening.

"Hey, Seth."

"Marissa?" Seth questions. "What are you doing here?"

Marissa scowls slightly, surprised her neighbor isn't a bit more happy to see her. "I was wondering if Ryan's around."

"Nope, sorry. Ryan's not here," Seth answers curtly.

"Oh, I thought he was home from the hospital. I saw you guys earlier..."

"Well, like I said," Seth interrupts rudely, "he's not here."

"All right, well could you..."

"Why do you want to see him?" Seth interrupts again, finding himself lacking patience.

"I guess... well, I was worried about him and wanted to make sure he was alright," Marissa says, slightly defensively.

"Really? Does your boyfriend know you're here? He did beat him, in case you didn't know," Seth points out.

"I broke up with Luke," Marissa states.

"Wow! Well, good for you!" Seth exclaims with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "It took that neanderthal almost killing someone before you realized what a colossal jerk he is."

"Hey, I seem to recall Ryan punching Luke when we were at the diner Friday," Marissa says, now becoming agitated with her neighbor.

"Yep, you're right. You are so very right, Marissa. Ryan did punch Luke. Squarely in the jaw, if I remember correctly. But, you know what? Luke deserved it. He was bullying Ryan just the way he has bullied everyone else. And I speak from personal experience."

"Yes, but..."

"There was no reason for Luke to get in Ryan's face like that. We were minding our own business," Seth continues, feeling like he's on a roll. "I would've punched him myself if I didn't think I'd end up with a broken hand."

"Where is all of this coming from?" Marissa asks, not appreciating how she's being treated. "I thought we were friends."

"Friends?" Seth questions. "How long have we been neighbors, huh? Years. And never once have you ever come over here."

"Well, I could say the same for you," Marissa states.

"Not true. I've been to your house. Once. Your mail was accidentally delivered to our house so I brought it over and gave it to your mom."

Marissa rolls her eyes, now completely annoyed with the conversation.

"Could you please just tell Ryan I stopped by?" Marissa asks as she begins to take her leave.

"Sure, I'll tell him," Seth says, shutting the front door rather forcefully.

 _Or maybe not. I have been known to forget on occasion,_ Seth thinks to himself as he walks back to the kitchen. _Ryan's got enough on his plate right now. The last thing that guy needs is more drama..._

* * *

"Ryan, you can sit here in the examination chair," the nurse says. "I'd like to take your blood pressure."

Ryan sits in the comfortable chair and watches as the nurse places the cuff around his upper left arm. He's relieved she didn't ask him to remove his shirt.

"Is Dr. Benson still here?" Sandy asks as he and Kirsten try not to hover over Ryan.

"He left a few hours ago," the nurse replies, noting the boy's blood pressure is normal. "Dr. Walker is the attending physician this evening. I'll let her know you're here."

"Thank you," Sandy says.

Ryan glances around the sterile room; the beige walls vying with the beige floor to see which will win the prize for most boring.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Karen Walker. You must be the Cohen's and this must be Ryan."

"Yes, I'm Sandy and this is my wife, Kirsten," Sandy says. "We're Ryan's legal guardians."

Sandy observes the doctor; early-to-mid thirties, brown hair tied up neatly in a bun with eyeglasses adding a touch of intellect.

"And I see there was an accident... Ryan cut his hand?" Karen asks, taking a quick look at the boy. Besides his bandaged hand, the doctor also notices the bruising on his face.

"Yes, Ryan accidentally broke a wine glass and cut his hand trying to clean it up," Kirsten explains.

"I need you both to step out of the room for a few minutes," the doctor states. "I'd like to have a word with Ryan in private."

"Really? But I don't understand," Kirsten says, confused. "I think he just needs some stitches..."

"Come on, sweetheart," Sandy says, guiding his wife out of the room. "Let's give Ryan and Dr. Walker some privacy."

Kirsten steps out into the hallway with Sandy and folds her arms across her body. "Why did the doctor ask us to leave? I don't understand. Ryan hurt his hand. Does he have to change into a hospital gown to get stitches in his hand?"

"The doctor's going to ask Ryan about his injury and how he got the bruises on his face," Sandy tells his mildly irritated wife.

"What do you mean? Oh no... you don't think... does the doctor actually think we caused Ryan's injuries?"

"Honey, there's no need to worry," Sandy says calmly. "The doctor doesn't know Ryan and she doesn't know us. Emergency room physicians are trained to spot abuse."

"But we haven't abused him, Sandy."

"And she will discover that through her talk with Ryan and a simple phone call to Dr. Benson," Sandy says, reassuring his concerned wife. "To be honest, if Dr. Walker didn't ask to speak with Ryan privately, I would have viewed her as being lax in her job."

"But we would never, ever hurt that boy," Kirsten points out.

"You know that and I know that, but the doctor doesn't," Sandy says. "Think of this in a different scenario. Ryan is brought into the ER but it's not you and I standing out here in the hallway. It's Dawn and Frank. Or Dawn and whoever her flavor of the month happens to be."

"Oh, I understand now," Kirsten says quietly. She shudders to think of how many times Ryan saw doctors who didn't see the abuse, or maybe just didn't care. Maybe the doctors were at the end of their shift, exhausted, and the last thing they wanted was to deal with belligerent parents and child services.

Dr. Karen Walker sits down next the examination chair and carefully begins removing the bloodied gauze off the boy's hand.

"Can you tell me what happened this evening?" Karen asks nonchalantly as she removes the gauze and assesses the boy's injury.

"Like Kirsten said, I broke a wine glass and cut my hand trying to clean it up," Ryan says, not sure why he needs to explain it again.

"And what about the bruises on your face. How did you get those?"

"I got into a fight," Ryan replies.

"Who did you get into a fight with?" Karen asks, examining the gash on the boy's hand.

"Some guy," Ryan replies. Suddenly, Ryan begins to get an uneasy feeling about the doctor's line of questioning. Doctors have questioned him in the past, but he's always lied. Now, he's telling the truth. "His name is Luke."

"What did you and Luke fight about?" Karen inquires.

"I think... I think a girl," Ryan answers. "And the fact that I'm not from around here."

"Oh? And, where are you from?" Karen asks as she cleanses the boy's hand with antiseptic.

"Chino," Ryan answers, hissing slightly as the antiseptic stings his cut.

"Why in the world would this 'Luke' person have a problem with you being from Chino?"

Ryan shrugs his shoulders. He really doesn't have an answer to that question, not even a lie.

"Tell me, Ryan, do you feel safe at home?"

Ryan suddenly tenses up. He's not sure how to answer the question. Which home is the doctor referring to?

Dr. Walker immediately senses the boy's confusion. "What I meant to ask is, do you feel safe living with the Cohen's?"

Ryan relaxes a bit, happy he'll be able to answer that question truthfully.

"Yes, the Cohen's have been wonderful. I don't know..." Ryan hesitates briefly, wanting to find the exact words. "The Cohen's have been a lifesaver to me. I would be in juvie right now if it wasn't for them."

"Dr. Walker, I have Ryan's medical files," the nurse says, handing Karen a manilla folder as she steps into the room.

"Excellent," Karen replies, accepting the file. "And, could you please send Mr. and Mrs. Cohen back in."

Sandy and Kirsten eagerly step back inside the room. They both immediately walk over to Ryan, flanking the boy on both sides of the chair.

"I've spoken with Ryan and now I just have to give Dr. Benson a quick phone call," Karen says. "Ryan, this is Debbie. She's going to stitch up your hand. I think just a couple of stitches will do the trick. Take over-the-counter pain medicine if you need to and when you shower, cover your hand with a plastic bag. Securing it with a large rubber band usually is enough to keep your hand dry. If the stitches do get wet, just remove the wet bandage and replace it with a dry one."

"Ryan is going to see our family doctor next week," Kirsten adds, hoping the boy will be able to get the stitches removed then.

"Excellent," Karen says. "Here's my card. If you have any questions, please call me."

"Thank you, Dr. Walker," Sandy says, shaking the woman's hand.

"You're very welcome," Karen replies. "And, Ryan..."

Ryan looks up at the doctor as he tries to ignore what the nurse is doing to his hand.

"I happen to be from Chino. It's a great city. Some of the nicest people I know are from Chino," Karen Walker states with pride, offering the boy a reassuring smile as she begins to take her leave. "You make sure you remember that, okay?"

Ryan smiles, appreciating the doctor's uplifting words. He then grimaces slightly as the nurse finishes stitching up his hand.

"All right, that should do it," Debbie states, securing the gauze around the stitches. "Just follow the doctor's instructions and your hand will be as good as new in a couple of weeks."

"So I'm free to go?" Ryan asks.

The nurse looks confusingly at the boy, then says, "Of course, you're free to go." Debbie nods towards Sandy and Kirsten, then smiles. "I think you'll be in very good hands."

Sandy, Kirsten and Ryan wait as the automatic doors open, granting them an exit from the emergency room. As they step out into the warm summer night, Ryan feels Sandy's arm wrapped around his shoulders and Kirsten's arm around his back.

Are you all set kid?" Sandy asks. "Let's go home."

Ryan suddenly stops walking and looks at Sandy, then at Kirsten.

"Ryan, what is it?" Sandy asks, confused the boy has suddenly stopped walking.

"Are you sure you still want me... I mean... still want me to come home with you?" Ryan asks, suddenly feeling insecure. He's already put them through so much. He's already been so much trouble. "I mean... do you still... I don't know..."

"Of course, we still want you," Sandy reassures.

"We're your family now, Ryan," Kirsten says. "Our home? It's your home now, too."

Ryan feels Sandy's arm around his shoulder; his hand gently squeezing him in a gesture to let him know everything's alright. He feels Kirsten's arm around his back, caressing him gently, nudging him to continue walking to the car.

"Okay," Ryan says with a small smile and a hint of relief in his voice. "Let's go home."


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.

 **A/N:** This story is  AU and begins after Luke carries Ryan out of the burning building.

 **I know a lot of readers were surprised that Ryan is being a bit more talkative than usual. I'm writing him this way because, in this story, his living arrangement and relationship with Kirsten is different from how it was portrayed in the beginning episodes on the show. In my story, he's been welcomed into the Cohen's home instead of being kept out in the pool house. This is something I've been wanting to do, to write Ryan being a bit more open. Although, rest assured, he will never, ever be as chatty as Seth and Sandy. ;-)**

 **Thank you for all the feedback and support. I really appreciate it!**

Chapter Eight

Kirsten stands in front of the mirror in her bathroom, brushing her long blond hair. She ties her hair back, then glances into the bedroom. She notices her husband sitting on the edge of the bed, still in his robe and staring down at the floor.

"Why don't you go check on him," Kirsten suggests, putting on a white silk robe over her matching white silk pajamas.

"I don't know... he's not a baby," Sandy replies.

"Of course, he's not a baby. But, you're concerned about him and you're not going to be able to fall asleep until..."

"I check on him," Sandy interrupts, finishing his wife's sentence; amazed at how well she can read him.

"Ryan's been through so much these past few days," Kirsten says, sitting down next to her husband and placing her hands upon his tense shoulders. "Go upstairs and check on him. Neither one of us will be able to go to sleep until you do."

Sandy smiles at his wife and gently places a kiss upon her forehead.

"You're right."

"Of course, I'm right," Kirsten states with a heartwarming smile. "I'm going to read for a little while. Go check on Ryan and let me know how he's doing. I won't be able to fall asleep until you return."

Sandy quietly closes the door as he leaves his bedroom, then makes his way to the foyer. As he slowly ascends the spiral staircase, he can't help but think about what had transpired in the kitchen earlier that evening.

 _Ryan was terrified. He thought he was going to be yelled at, or worse,_ Sandy thinks to himself as he makes his way upstairs. _My god, how can I impress upon the boy that I would never lay a hand on him. I would never hurt him..._

Sandy walks down the dark hallway and stops in front of Ryan's bedroom. He notices the door slightly ajar. Sandy gently pushes the door open and peeks his head inside. The room is still and quiet. A full moon casts an eerie glow through the window, giving Sandy just enough light to see his way around. He walks over to the bed and suddenly becomes concerned.

 _He's not here,_ Sandy thinks to himself, trying not to panic. _Where could he be?_

Sandy glances around the moonlit room, making sure he hasn't missed anything.

 _Maybe he's in the bathroom..._

Sandy steps out into the hallway and walks over to the bathroom, only to find it dark and unoccupied.

 _Where in the world could he be?_

Sandy makes his way back downstairs and stops in the foyer. He glances over at the front door.

 _He couldn't... he wouldn't run away..._

Sandy makes a beeline to the front door and places his hand firmly upon the doorknob. He jiggles it a bit and lets out a sigh of relief when he finds the front door is still locked.

 _If he left the house, he didn't leave this way,_ Sandy thinks to himself, trying desperately to remain calm and focused. _I do remember telling Ryan to help himself to my collection of John Grisham novels..._

Sandy immediately makes his way to his office. If the boy is having trouble falling asleep, he might be picking out a book to read. Disappointment takes over when he sees his office dark and empty; his book collection undisturbed.

 _Ryan... my god, kid... where are you?_

Sandy stands in the dark and runs his hand over his tired face.

 _Maybe the boy got hungry,_ Sandy thinks as he quickly walks down the hall towards the kitchen. _He's a teenager. They're always eating. You can't shovel the food in fast enough..._

Sandy stops in the kitchen, again disappointed that there's no sign of Ryan. He leans against the breakfast bar and recaps to himself what happened after they returned home from the hospital.

 _We stepped into the foyer. Ryan said he was tired so he went upstairs to go to bed._

"I saw that boy walk up the stairs," Sandy confirms aloud, even though there's no one around.

Sandy paces back and forth as he continues to think about the evening.

 _Kirsten and I came into the kitchen. Seth was still up. He was sitting at the breakfast bar having a snack. He asked how Ryan was and we told him he needed a couple of stitches but that he would be alright. We thanked him for cleaning up the kitchen. Seth said he was happy to help, then he left to go to bed._

Sandy stops pacing and places both hands on the kitchen counter. He stares down at the sink and sighs as he remembers the chaotic scene that occurred after dinner.

 _Then Kirsten and I went to our bedroom to retire for the night._

Sandy glances back up and peers solemnly out the kitchen window.

 _The pool house. Maybe Ryan went back to the pool house..._

As Sandy steps outside onto the patio, he feels the warm evening breeze waft across his face, refreshing him. He begins making he way to the pool house when he hears a faint coughing sound. Sandy stops and looks towards the pool and notices someone sitting in one of the chaise lounge chairs.

"Ryan? Is that you?"

Sandy immediately makes his way over to the pool, curiosity and concern taking over. He sees the boy laying in the chair, gazing up at the night sky.

"Ryan, what are you doing out here? Are you alright? Are you in pain? Does your hand hurt? Do you need an ice pack? Or your head... Do you have a headache? Are you dizzy? Or maybe nauseous... Is there anything I can get you? Anything I can do..."

Ryan sits in awe as he looks up at Sandy, listening to the man's rapid fire questions; all without ever having to pause to take a single breath.

 _Now I know where Seth gets it from..._

"No, I'm fine, Sandy," Ryan replies. "I just needed some fresh air. I can go back inside if you want me to."

"Fresh air! Of course," Sandy says in relief. "The house is a bit stuffy. Kirsten's been leaving the air conditioning on since it's been so warm."

"Is it all right if I'm out here?" Ryan asks, realizing he maybe should have asked permission first, but everyone had gone to bed. He didn't want to disturb anyone.

"Yes, of course it's alright," Sandy replies. "May I join you? It's such a beautiful night."

A puzzled look crosses Ryan's face as he watches Sandy pull another chaise lounge chair over and sit down next to him. He doesn't know why Sandy would ask his permission. After all, it is his patio.

"Wow! The night sky is amazing tonight. The full moon and all the stars," Sandy says as he gazes up at the heavens.

Ryan pulls his unzipped, gray hoodie around himself, folds his arms across his chest and looks back up at the night sky.

Sandy sits quietly, wanting to talk but deciding against it. He wants to let the boy say something first, if he chooses. He listens to the soothing trickling sound of the infinity pool and the lulling songs of chirping crickets. Sandy takes in a deep breath and feels the anxiety and panic he was experiencing just moments ago melt away. He glances over at Ryan, understanding that the boy will be able to sit there for hours without uttering a single syllable. Sandy smiles at the thought, then looks back up at the night sky.

"I remember..."

Sandy immediately sits up a bit straighter and looks over at Ryan when he hears the boy's soft, wistful voice.

"I remember when I was little, maybe six or seven, Trey and I..." Ryan pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts. "We would sometimes lay out in the backyard and watch the moon and stars."

Sandy pictures the two brothers stargazing together when they were younger and can't help but smile.

"Trey would sometimes get our sleeping bags and we would camp out in the backyard," Ryan continues. He glances over at Sandy and quietly adds, "Some nights we didn't want to be in the house."

Sandy's smile fades from his face when he sees the boy's eyes become wary, most likely from recalling his parents fighting... or worse.

"Ryan, I want you to know that Kirsten and I would never, ever hurt you," Sandy states firmly but in a gentle tone of voice. "In this house, you are safe."

Ryan smiles at Sandy, appreciating the man's reassuring words, then returns his gaze up towards the night sky.

"I remember I asked Trey what the stars were made out of, and he told me they were sugar cubes," Ryan continues, laughing briefly at the thought. "He said the sun made the sugar sparkle as the cubes rotated in outer space... I can't believe how naive I was."

"You were how old, six?" Sandy says with his smile returning to his face. "I think you can cut yourself a little slack."

"He would tell me to make a wish on all the stars I could see, but there was a hitch."

"Oh?" Sandy inquires, his curiosity piqued. He pictures the older brother weaving a story for his younger brother; a small child most likely frightened or upset and in need of an adventure tale. Anything to take a child's mind off of what nightmare was possibly taking place inside the home.

"I couldn't reach the sugar cubes from earth," Ryan says, still gazing at the twinkling stars. "Trey said he would take me to the moon someday. There I would be close enough to reach out and collect them."

Ryan pauses for a moment, recalling how he had envisioned himself and Trey standing on the moon, both of them still clad in their pajamas and reaching into outer space, grabbing the tiny sparkling stars and stuffing them into their pillow cases.

"Trey told me we would collect as many sugar cubes as we could carry home, and when we returned to Earth, my wishes would come true."

Sandy finds himself entranced by the magical story, then suddenly becomes concerned when he senses a slight change in the boy's demeanor.

"Ryan, what is it?" Sandy asks.

"It's just... well..."

Sandy sits quietly, waiting patiently for the boy to collect his thoughts.

"Trey can't see the sky tonight," Ryan says, his voice pensive. "All he gets to look at is a drab, paint-chipped ceiling in a dark cell..."

"Trey won't be in prison forever, Ryan," Sandy points out, realizing the boy may be missing his brother. Even though Trey has been having problems, it's become clear to Sandy that the boys were close when they were younger.

"I know..."

"Maybe when Trey is released, we can have him over for dinner," Sandy offers. "Then afterwards, you and your brother can come out here and do some serious stargazing."

Ryan looks over at Sandy and smiles. "Thanks."

"Hold that smile," Sandy says as he gets out of the lounge chair. "I'll be right back."

Ryan watches Sandy scamper off into the house and wonders what the man could be up to. A few minutes later, he sees Sandy return holding two blankets in his arms.

"You and I, Ryan, are sleeping under the stars tonight. I needed to let Kirsten know so she wouldn't worry," Sandy says. "Here, lift your arms."

Ryan does as he's told and lifts his arms up, allowing Sandy to cover him with the warm blanket. He watches as the man dutifully tucks the blanket around his body, then guides his arms back down to secure the cover.

"There," Sandy says, pleased with his ability to tuck a teenager into a lounge chair. "I don't think we could ask for a more perfect night. It's sixty-five degrees, a full moon and not a cloud in the sky."

Sandy lays down in the lounge chair next to Ryan and covers himself up with the other blanket.

"Do you see that star, Ryan?" Sandy asks, pointing up at the night sky. "The one just to the right of the moon."

Ryan looks intently, searching for the star Sandy is pointing to. "Yes, I see it."

"I want you to make a wish."

"A wish?"

"Yes, make a wish. You don't have to wish aloud, but make a wish upon that star."

Ryan gazes up at the twinkling star and thinks to himself for a moment. A wish is not something he wants to make in haste. This is not an opportunity he should squander.

 _I wish I had a family just like the Cohens... parents like Sandy and Kirsten._ Ryan sighs softly when he realizes what he's actually wishing for.

 _I wish the Cohens were my family..._

Sandy reaches up towards the moonlit sky and makes a motion of grasping the star in his hand. He then lowers his arm and places a small object in Ryan's left palm.

Ryan glances down at his hand and sees a single cube of sugar glistening under the moonlight.

"Your brother was only mistaken about one thing," Sandy says softly. "You don't have to travel all the way to the moon and back for your wishes to come true."

Ryan blinks away the tears welling up in his eyes as he gazes down at the sugar cube. He takes in a deep breath to rein in his emotions. He doesn't ever remember feeling this way before. He's not even sure what he's feeling, but it's a good feeling. Ryan sighs as soothing comfort and warmth envelops him.

"Thank you, Ryan."

"Huh?" Ryan asks a bit confused as he looks over at Sandy.

"Thank you, for this. For this evening. For showing me this incredible night sky, something I've taken for granted far too long." Sandy looks over at Ryan and smiles. "I can't remember the last time I stargazed. Looking at that full moon; it's awe-inspiring. It's beautiful."

Ryan smiles as a feeling of contentment washes over him. He looks back down at the cube of sugar in his hand. He knows he never wants to lose it. Ryan carefully tucks the sugar cube beneath the gauze covering the palm of his right hand. He gently folds his fingers over it, then places his hand on his chest; covering his right hand with his left to make sure it stays safe and secure.

Ryan suddenly begins to feel sleepy and closes his eyes. He listens to the soothing trickling sound of the infinity pool and the lulling songs of chirping crickets. As he slowly drifts off to sleep, he wonders to himself...

 _Maybe... just maybe... wishes really do come true._


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.

 **A/N:** This story is  AU and begins after Luke carries Ryan out of the burning building.

 **Wow! I'm overwhelmed with all the positive feedback for my last chapter. To be honest, I was concerned it might have come across as a bit boring or too sappy. But, I wanted the chapter to be a more quiet moment to close out that very hectic weekend for Ryan and the Cohens.**

 **I know that, on the show, the catalyst for Luke's personality change was losing Marissa and discovering his father was gay. In this story, the catalyst is what Luke did to Ryan at the model home.**

 **A note regarding Theresa** **: I always felt she was never in the writer's mind at the beginning of the show. I also feel that she didn't start seeing Eddie until after the Thanksgiving episode when Ryan and Marissa showed up looking for Arturo. I was always confused by that episode. Ryan steps into their home and Eva embraces him like a long lost son, which is why I always wondered why he didn't go to their home in the beginning. Ryan and Theresa were clearly good friends and intimately involved at one point (Theresa said so when they slept together in the hotel room). So I'm writing how I feel Ryan would have behaved, in regards to Theresa, if she had been an actual character from the beginning of the show.**

 **Also, to those readers who don't like Theresa, have no fear. I'm only using the character to enrich background story and help tie some things together. I feel that if Theresa had been on the show from the beginning, the character would have been quite useful in shedding some light regarding Ryan's life in Chino.**

 **Thank you for all the feedback and support. I really appreciate it!**

Chapter Nine

Sheriff Ray Hicks sits in the back of the crowded Monday morning courtroom and stares down at the sealed envelop in his hand.

 _To: Ryan Atwood From: Luke Ward_

"Ryan Atwood," Ray whispers quietly. He wonders how the kid is doing. He wonders if he could clone Sandy and Kirsten Cohen so more teenagers like Ryan can get out of the system and have a chance at a better life.

Ray glances back up and looks at Luke sitting quietly next to his lawyer as the judge sets the plea agreement in motion. Ray likes this judge. He's honest and fair. He also enjoys doling out lectures, especially to first-time offenders.

"Mr. Ward, please stand," the judge orders in a stern voice.

Luke slowly rises and rubs his sweaty palms on the sides of his newly pressed suit pants. He's immediately relieved when his attorney, Bob Cameron, stands up alongside him.

"Before you leave my courtroom today, I want to say a few words," the judge says, looking directly at Luke. "I've been sitting on this bench for nine years now and have heard my share of cases of people doing some boneheaded things. But this..." the judge states, tapping his finger on the case file before him. "This really takes the cake."

Luke lowers his head, acknowledging the judge's words.

 _I deserve this..._

"Whatever issues you have with the young man you assaulted, I hope you get them resolved. And soon. Looking through your personal case file, I see you have a birthday coming up this fall. Consider this generous plea deal an early birthday gift."

"Thank you, your Honor," Luke says politely.

"Oh, don't thank me. Thank your lawyer," the judge states. "You're free to go."

Luke turns to Bob Cameron and earnestly shakes the man's hand, then turns around to hug his tearful mother and smiling father. He feels enormous relief to have the hearing over with and realizes how fortunate he is to be given this second chance.

 _I'm not going to screw this up,_ Luke thinks to himself. _It's time to start fresh... make some changes..._

"Starting with me," Luke whispers.

"Starting what, honey?" Meredith asks, not hearing her son over the din in the courtroom.

"I was thinking that I need to make some changes, starting with me," Luke explains.

"I think we all need to make some changes," Carson states as he places his arm around his son's shoulders. "For starters, I'm going to do a lot less traveling; be home on weekends so I can spend more time with you."

"Really? You're not going to be gone every weekend?" Luke asks, surprised his father is willing to make such a big sacrifice and change his work schedule.

"We've got a lot of catching up to do," Carson says with a smile as he pulls his son in closer. "Come on... what do you say. Let's go home."

* * *

"Good morning," Kirsten says, greeting Ryan as the boy walks quietly into the kitchen. "Are you hungry? I was going to make myself a bagel. You're welcome to join me."

Ryan takes a seat at the breakfast bar and suddenly hears his stomach growl.

"I heard that," Kirsten says with a smile. "How about some orange juice." Kirsten walks over to the refrigerator and takes out a carton of orange juice. She places a clean glass down in front of Ryan and pours him some juice. "What kind of bagel would you like?"

"Huh?" Ryan asks, glancing up wide-eyed at Kirsten while he carefully takes a sip of the orange juice.

"I've got blueberry, cinnamon swirl, whole grain, sesame and, of course, plain." Kirsten notes the boy's hesitation and quickly tries to put him at ease. "I need to know what you like to eat so I can learn what your preferences are," Kirsten explains. "Seth, for example, loves the blueberry bagels and anything with cinnamon, but won't go near the whole grain."

Ryan looks at all the bagels and ponders his decision carefully. "I'll have a plain bagel... if that's alright."

"Of course! And I'll have the whole grain," Kirsten states with enthusiasm, thrilled the boy made his own decision. "Now, would you like your bagel toasted?"

Ryan takes another sip of his orange juice. He doesn't want Kirsten to go to a lot of trouble. After all, he's use to eating dry, stale cereal in the morning. If he was lucky, he had some toast when there was a decent loaf of bread in the house; bread that wasn't covered with a bunch of fuzzy green spots.

 _"Just scrape it off with a knife and stop your damn whining! Jesus... fuck... don't waste food, Ryan!"_

Ryan shudders when he hears his mother's voice in his head. He centers his gaze down on the breakfast bar, trying to hide his anxiety. He lets out a fretful sigh as he studies the jagged pattern in the granite.

 _Where are you mom?_

Ryan quickly shakes off the thought and focuses his attention back on Kirsten.

"I like my bagel toasted, but Sandy and Seth would cry foul if I toasted their bagels," Kirsten says, changing the toaster to the "bagel" setting. "Do you have a preference, Ryan?"

"Actually, toasted sounds good, but I can do it myself," Ryan says. "I don't want you going to any trouble..."

"It's no trouble," Kirsten interrupts. "I may not be a pro in the kitchen, but I do know how to make a bagel. Sandy made sure of that the first week we were married."

Ryan smiles, appreciating the light banter after such a stress-filled weekend.

"You just sit tight and drink your orange juice," Kirsten orders playfully. "Breakfast will be served shortly."

* * *

Sandy feels his cell phone vibrate in his pocket and immediately makes a beeline into his home office and shuts the door.

"What have you found out, Sam?" Sandy asks his colleague and lead investigator as he paces around the room. "Did you find her?"

 _"Yep, right where Ryan's brother said she would be."_

"Damn!" Sandy curses under his breath. When he spoke with Trey to tell him what happened to Ryan, he asked him for some ideas of where his mother could have gone. He was hoping Dawn would have gone to a friend's house... or better yet, check herself into rehab. But Vegas?

 _"Are you going to tell Ryan where his mother is?"_

"Only if he asks," Sandy replies. "I won't lie to the kid. Kirsten and I are making progress. I believe he's trusting us more and more every day. I'm not going to throw it all away and lie to him."

 _"So, what would you like me to do now?"_

"I need you to follow her."

 _"That won't be hard. Do you know you can hear that woman's voice over the noise of the slot machines?"_

"I believe it," Sandy says, recalling when he first met Ryan's mother outside juvie. He suddenly hears Dawn's shrill voice inside his head and grimaces.

 _"Anything else?"_

"I want pictures... date and time stamped," Sandy says. "Pictures of Dawn drinking, smoking, gambling, cavorting with men..."

 _"You do know casinos frown on people taking pictures inside their establishments."_

"I know, but I need proof," Sandy says, still pacing around his office. "Anything that will show Dawn behaving badly and unfit to parent."

 _"I know a private investigator who's quite adept at this type of surveillance, but it'll cost you."_

"I don't care what it costs, Sam."

 _"You know she's not doing anything illegal."_

"I know, but family court judges tend to frown upon parents taking part in reckless and/or questionable behaviors," Sandy explains.

 _"True... you have a point."_

"Dawn's been in Vegas since when... maybe Friday? It's just a matter of time before the woman runs out of money, and when she does, she'll be on the first bus back here looking for her son," Sandy states with concern as he runs his hand through his thick, dark hair. "As soon as Dawn learns she's lost custody of Ryan, all hell's going to break loose. And if she decides to petition the court and try to regain custody, I want cold, hard evidence of her being an unfit mother."

 _"Understood, Sandy."_

"I've seen too many kids returned to their biological parents for the sake of 'keeping the family together'. Then a week later, the kid ends up in the hospital, or worse, the morgue."

 _"Don't worry about a thing, Sandy. I'll take care of it."_

"Thanks, Sam," Sandy says with relief in his voice as he finally stops pacing around his office. "I knew I could count on you."

* * *

"Have you seen Seth this morning?" Kirsten asks as she retrieves a tub of cream cheese from the refrigerator.

"Um... his bedroom door was closed when I went upstairs," Ryan replies, somewhat absent-mindedly, as he scans the front page of the newspaper that was left on the breakfast bar. "I could go wake him up if you want..."

"No, let him sleep," Kirsten interrupts, knowing her son was up late and probably isn't looking forward to another day of doing house chores. "Would you like more orange juice?" Kirsten looks over at Ryan when the boy doesn't respond. A feeling of dread wells up in the pit of her stomach when she sees Ryan staring at the newspaper that's been there since Saturday.

 _The newspaper with the article on the group home,_ Kirsten thinks to herself as she feels her heart sink. _The article about the boy who committed suicide..._

Kirsten had every intention of tossing that paper in the recycling bin, but with everything that had happened over the weekend, it completely slipped her mind.

"Ryan, I think Seth left the Sunday paper in the family room," Kirsten says, noticing the boy reading intently. "I think today's paper should be here by now. I can go get it..."

"No, it's okay," Ryan says, his voice trailing off as he reads the article.

Kirsten stops making breakfast and walks over to Ryan. "Sandy told me you spent some time at this group home," Kirsten states in a gentle tone of voice, leaning her forearms on the breakfast bar. She watches the quiet boy intently, wondering what could be going through his mind.

"I was there..."

"Did you know that boy?" Kirsten asks, wishing she could read Ryan's mind. "The one who killed himself?"

"No, I don't think so," Ryan says as he tugs at the sleeve of his gray hoodie, nudging it down a bit to cover his right wrist. "I was only there for maybe a month while my mom..." Ryan hesitates a moment, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "While my mom was in rehab..."

Kirsten places her hand over the boy's left hand and squeezes gently. "Ryan, if you ever need to talk... talk about anything, Sandy and I are here for you."

Kirsten waits for a few moments in silence, hoping the boy will say something... anything.

"It's just..."

"It's just what?" Kirsten asks, relieved the silence has been broken.

"It's just... my mom," Ryan sighs.

"What about your mom?" Kirsten asks as she again gently squeezes Ryan's hand, letting the boy know he can talk to her. The only thing she knows about Dawn Atwood is what Sandy has told her, which wasn't good. Not by a long shot.

"I wish I knew where she was... if she's alright." Ryan glances up at Kirsten, hoping the woman understands his concern. "I don't know if she's alive or dead..."

"Your mother's alive," Sandy states as he enters the kitchen.

"She's alive?" Ryan reiterates, sitting up a little straighter on the bar stool. "Do you know where she is?"

Sandy hesitates for a moment and runs his hand over his face, knowing that what he's about to say will probably hurt the boy, but he can't lie.

"Ryan, your mother... she's in Vegas."

A heavy silence hangs in the room as Ryan mulls over the man's words.

"I'm sorry, Ry..."

"Vegas," Ryan interrupts, not wanting to believe it, but he knows Sandy would never lie to him. "My mom's in Vegas."

Kirsten looks at her husband, willing him with her eyes, wanting him to say something more... anything... to appease the boy and put his mind at ease.

"I thought you might be concerned about your mother and would want to know where she was, so I had someone look for her," Sandy explains, leaving out the part about hiring a private investigator to gather evidence of questionable behavior and child neglect. He figures the kid doesn't need to know everything. Besides, omitting information isn't quite the same as lying.

Ryan gazes back down at the newspaper; the small black print blurring as he blinks away a stinging tear. He lets out a small chuckle and halfhearted smile, feeling ridiculous for even caring.

"I guess my mom would rather play the slots than... well... you know..."

Sandy and Kirsten are both rendered speechless. Neither one of them knows what to say. They certainly can't say anything in Dawn's defense. There is none. And telling the boy everything will be alright just doesn't seem to be enough. Only time will heal the boy's pain, or if not heal, make it less hurtful.

Sandy suddenly remembers the conversation he had with Ryan when he showed the boy his bedroom upstairs.

"Ryan, have you called your friend, Theresa, yet?" Sandy asks.

"Theresa?" Kirsten asks, her interest piqued. "Who's Theresa?"

"She's a friend of Ryan's from Chino," Sandy replies.

"She was my neighbor," Ryan adds, liking the idea of calling her. It'll get his mind off his mother blowing all of her money... their money... at a casino. At least, temporarily.

"Here, use my cell," Sandy says, handing Ryan his phone. "You can go out on the patio if you'd like some privacy."

"Thanks," Ryan says, accepting the phone from Sandy as he makes his way towards the patio door.

"Ryan, make sure to let Theresa know she's welcome to visit anytime," Kirsten says before the boy leaves.

"Really?" Ryan asks.

"Yes, she's your friend," Kirsten states with a reassuring smile. "She's welcome here anytime."

Ryan smiles in appreciation and makes his way to the patio. He pulls a chaise lounge chair into a shaded area, sits down and calls his friend.

 _"Hello?"_

"Hi, um... Eva, this is Ryan."

 _"Dios mio, Ryan! Donde estas?"_

"I'm in Newport," Ryan replies.

 _"Por que estas... why are you in Newport?"_

"It's a long story," Ryan says.

 _"We've been so worried about you."_

A small smile appears briefly on Ryan's face. He feels touched by the woman's genuine concern.

"Is Theresa around?"

 _"Si, I'll get her. Oh, and Ryan..."_

"Yeah?"

 _"Gracias por llamar."_

"De nada," Ryan politely replies. He waits a few moments, then hears a friendly, familiar voice.

 _Ryan, my god, are you alright? Where are you? My mom and I go away for a week and when we come back, you're gone!"_

"I know, I'm sorry," Ryan says, remembering Theresa went to visit her ailing aunt. "How is your aunt doing?"

 _"Her cancer is in remission, thank God. Our visit went very well."_

"That's good to hear," Ryan says with relief in his voice, remembering when he first met Theresa's Aunt Rosa. It was over Christmas. He was thirteen and the holiday celebration in his house was not going well. His mother was drunk. Her boyfriend... Ryan can't even recall the lout's name... was even more drunk. When the fighting broke out, he slipped away and went next door. Ryan remembers always being welcome in the Diaz's home. It's something he will forever be grateful for.

 _"Ryan, what happened? Arturo told me you and Trey were arrested for stealing a car. Is this true?"_

"Yeah... I'm afraid so."

 _"Why? Why, Ryan, were you with Trey? You know your brother is nothing but trouble."_

"I couldn't go home, Theresa," Ryan explains. "I just couldn't..."

 _"A.J."_

"Yeah... I just didn't want to be alone with him while my mom was at work."

 _"Ugh, that man... correction... that monster... should be in prison, you know."_

Ryan silently acknowledges his friend's words, but he has a keen understanding of fantasy versus reality. And the reality is that no matter how many times A.J. would be arrested for domestic assault, he would get out on bail and make his life and his mother's life even more of a living hell. It was better to just avoid the man. His mother stayed safer that way.

 _"So, where are you?"_

"I'm in Newport," Ryan replies. "My lawyer, Sandy Cohen... he and his wife, Kirsten, are my legal guardians now since my mom... since she... well... took off."

 _"You mean your mother just left?"_

"Yeah, I guess she needed to get away for awhile," Ryan sighs. _Get away from me..._

 _"This lawyer, Sandy Cohen... do you trust him?"_

"I do. He seems to be one of the good guys," Ryan says. "And, he and Kirsten have a son our age."

 _"So, since they're your legal guardians now, does this mean you don't have to go back to that god awful group home?"_

"Yeah," Ryan replies with relief.

 _"I'm happy you're safe."_

"Me too," Ryan says, deciding to leave out what happened at the model home. It would only upset her.

 _"Well, I should probably let you go..."_

"Um... Kirsten said you're welcome to visit here anytime."

 _"Really? I am looking for a summer job so if I find myself in the area, I'll definitely stop by and visit."_

"I'd like that," Ryan says earnestly.

 _"Bye, Ryan, and take care. I'll look forward to seeing you soon."_

Ryan ends his call and sits quietly on the lounge chair. He's happy he was able to talk to Theresa and her mom. They always have a way of making him feel like he matters and they seem to truly care.

 _Like the Cohens..._

Ryan stares down at the swimming pool; the water shimmering under the sun, reminding him of shiny silver coins. Suddenly, the unwanted thought of his mother having fun in Vegas enters his mind.

"Were you able to get ahold of your friend?"

Ryan glances up and sees Sandy standing by the pool with an inquisitive look in his eyes.

"Yeah," Ryan replies, handing the cell phone back to Sandy. "She was happy I called."

Sandy takes the phone from Ryan, then sits down next to the boy on the chaise lounge chair.

"It's quite different out here... in the morning," Sandy says with a bit of melancholy in his voice, remembering how he and Ryan spent last evening gazing up at the night sky. Sandy listens to the soothing trickling sound of the infinity pool, but instead of chirping crickets lulling him to sleep, he hears the birds; each one chirping their own unique song.

Sandy glances over at Ryan and sees a solemn expression on the boy's face.

"I'm sorry, Ryan... about your mother..."

"She left me a note."

Sandy looks over at Ryan intently, noting the deep hurt in the boy's eyes.

 _The same look you had when I took you home,_ Sandy thinks to himself. _You were completely lost; in utter disbelief that your mother would abandon you._

Sandy recalls Ryan just looking around at the stark, empty home, literally in a state of shock. The boy fiercely holding his tears at bay; tears he refused to shed for fear of looking weak.

"Ryan, your mother's behavior is reprehensible. She is an addict and needs help," Sandy says. "But it is her responsibility to get help, not yours."

"I know..." Ryan mumbles, looking down at the patio, mindlessly tracing the irregular lines etched in the stone with his eyes.

"I know you're hurting, but please know that Kirsten and I are here for you," Sandy continues as he gently places his hand on the boy's slouching shoulder. "You can talk to us about anything."

"I know..." Ryan says again, appreciating the man's consoling words.

"What do you say about having some breakfast," Sandy says as he gently squeezes the boy's shoulder. He thought he heard a rumbling noise and isn't sure if it was his stomach or Ryan's.

Ryan hears his stomach growl again. He's utterly famished and would love the bagel Kirsten made for him.

"That sounds great," Ryan replies with an earnest smile.

"All right, then," Sandy states with a big grin as he stands up and quickly works out the kinks of his middle-aged body. "Let's go eat."

Ryan stands up and starts slowly walking back to the house with Sandy.

"How about a bagel," Sandy says as he drapes his arm over the boy's shoulders. "I'll even schmear it for you."

"I'd like that," Ryan states, looking forward to the bagel-making lesson he knows Sandy is going to give him.

A genuine smile graces the boy's face as he steps back inside the house. He sees Kirsten laughing as she watches Seth flail his arms around in the air, proclaiming his dislike for anything whole grain.

"It makes me cramp up, Mom... all that fiber!" Seth bewails. "I'm a growing boy. I need sugar."

"You need protein," Kirsten states, smiling at her son's overexaggeration. "Sugar just makes you more animated."

Ryan feels himself relaxing and laughing along with the family. He finds himself in awe of how well they mesh together; joking over silly things while taking care of the task at hand... making breakfast. There's no stress. No animosity. No hurtful words or stinging slaps to the face.

 _You can stay in Vegas, Mom,_ Ryan thinks to himself. _I want to stay with this family..._


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.

 **A/N:** This story is  AU and begins after Luke carries Ryan out of the burning building.

 **I'm sorry it's taken so long to update. I've been traveling a lot plus my son, Ryan, is getting married. :-) Lots of stuff going on in my life right now. I have this entire story outlined and planned out, so you can't fault me for not be organized. ;-) I try to write whenever I can. Thank you for being so patient.**

 **This chapter is a little on the lighter side, but for those readers who crave angst, more is on the way. ;-)**

 **Thank you for all the feedback and support. I really appreciate it!**

Chapter Ten

"Was Ryan able to talk to his friend, Theresa?" Kirsten asks, rinsing off a breakfast plate in the sink before handing it to Sandy.

"Yes, he did," Sandy replies, placing the plate on the lower rack in the dishwasher. He never understood why his wife practically cleans the dishes first before putting them in the dishwasher, but he's learned not to question her. The dishes get clean either way.

"I would really like to meet her," Kirsten says, gazing out the kitchen window. She observes Ryan sitting in the shade on the chaise lounge chair, reading a book. She smiles contently, happy the boy was able to choose a book to read.

 _He needs to rest and try to forget about life for awhile,_ Kirsten thinks to herself as she hands her husband another plate. _If that's possible..._

"Chino isn't that far away," Kirsten continues. "You're always driving out there..."

"Takes me about forty-five minutes," Sandy acknowledges. "I know a lot of people with longer commute times than that."

"Maybe we could have Theresa over for dinner some evening, when Ryan is feeling better."

"That's an excellent idea, sweetheart," Sandy replies. "I know Ryan would like that."

A few moments of silence pass as both parents gaze out the kitchen window, observing the boy reading intently.

"How did you find out that Dawn went to Vegas?" Kirsten asks, breaking the silence as she hands Sandy another thoroughly rinsed plate.

"Ryan's brother," Sandy replies. "When I talked to Trey a couple of days ago, he gave me a few ideas of where to look."

"But, why? Why even try to find her?"

"Because I have dealt with my share of 'Dawns'," Sandy replies. "Sam is keeping an eye on her... and an ear... to gather evidence of her gambling and carousing."

"Do you think she'll make trouble for us? For Ryan?" Kirsten asks with concern.

"I don't know, but I want to stay one step ahead of her if I can," Sandy says.

Kirsten looks out the kitchen window again. She can't help but keep checking on Ryan to make sure he's alright. She's not quite sure if the boy would ask for help, or ask for anything, if he needed something.

"What about Trey?" Kirsten asks, almost in a trance-like state as she continues to watch Ryan read his book. "Has he mentioned him at all?"

"I think Ryan misses his brother..."

"Really?" Kirsten interrupts, wondering if there's anything they can do to help.

"I mean, not misses him now but..." Sandy thinks back to last night when he and Ryan were sitting under the stars; the boy reminiscing about the time he spent with his brother when they were younger. "I think Ryan misses the relationship he had with Trey before his brother started getting into trouble and using drugs. I sense the boys were very close at one point, and even though Trey is still alive, I believe Ryan is mourning that loss."

"Do you think Ryan would want to visit Trey in prison?"

"I don't know, but I told him he could visit Trey if he wanted to," Sandy replies. "I'm sure there are things Ryan may only feel comfortable talking about with his brother. I would have to accompanying him, though. Ryan's a minor and will have to have an adult with him."

Sandy glances over at his wife and notices how concerned and worried she looks.

"Honey, what is it?"

Kirsten dries her hands on the kitchen towel and lets out a long, plaintive sigh.

"Saturday's newspaper... I left it on..."

"Oh my, god... the newspaper!" Sandy slaps the palm of his hand on his forehead, clearly upset with himself. "I had every intention of tossing that paper out but with everything that happened over the weekend, I completely forgot!" Sandy says, berating himself.

Kirsten looks over at her husband and offers a small smile of condolence. "I guess we're not perfect," Kirsten admits.

"I'm not sure if it even matters," Sandy acknowledges. "Ryan likes to read and I noticed that in today's paper, there was another article about the charges being brought against the adults running the facility. They've officially closed that group home."

"I'm not sure if that will give Ryan much comfort," Kirsten says, her voice full of melancholy.

"We can't push the boy to talk," Sandy states. "We can only make sure he knows that we're here for him. Hopefully... eventually... he'll open up."

"I hope he does," Kirsten says. "I know Ryan will go to you. I hope he'll be able to confide in you because I sense he knows something."

"What do you mean?" Sandy asks, his interest piqued.

"I don't know... I can't quite put my finger on it," Kirsten says. "When we were talking earlier, he seemed to brush the topic aside. But his body language... I know he's hurting. There's something he's not telling us. I just feel it."

"Ryan will talk when he's ready to talk," Sandy says, knowing it will do no good to pry information from the boy when he's not ready to share.

"Well, maybe you can get him to take some Motrin," Kirsten says, taking two tablets out and grabbing a bottled water from the refrigerator. "This is the last day he needs to take pain medicine. I know he'll scoff at it, but you're very persuasive."

"Consider it done," Sandy says obligingly.

Suddenly the door bell rings, jolting Sandy and Kirsten from their conversation.

"Are you expecting someone?" Sandy asks.

"No," Kirsten replies.

"Oh no... it better not be Julie Cooper," Sandy states with intense dread, his bright blue eyes darkening as his usual playful, bushy eyebrows sulk down upon his forehead. "She's probably coming over here to inform us how we're jeopardizing the entire neighborhood because we're allowing a dangerous criminal to live with us."

"I'll handle Julie Cooper," Kirsten states, handing the bottled water and pills to Sandy. "You, dear husband, need to take care of Ryan."

* * *

Kirsten scurries into the foyer and stops abruptly before opening the front door. She clears her throat and runs her hands over her cream-colored silk blouse and beige linen pants, then checks her posture in the mirror, making sure she's standing as tall as her 5' 7" frame will allow. If it is Julie Cooper, she wants to appear strong and confident. She places her hand on the doorknob and opens the door while letting out a long sigh.

"Sheriff Hicks!" Kirsten states with delightful surprise, relieved it's not her next-door neighbor.

"Good morning, Mrs. Cohen... or I guess it's afternoon now," Ray states politely while removing his hat in the presence of a lady. "I hope I'm not intruding."

"No, of course not," Kirsten assures. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, everything's fine. I was wondering if I could see Ryan."

"Sure, he's out on the patio with Sandy," Kirsten says, stepping aside to allow the sheriff into the foyer.

Suddenly, there's a loud, blood-curdling scream. Ray instinctively unsnaps his holster and places his hand on his sidearm as he prepares himself to investigate.

"Oh, there's no need for alarm," Kirsten reassures. "That's just my son, Seth."

Ray relaxes a bit when he realizes the woman is calm and smiling.

"Seth is cleaning the garage. He must have come across another spider," Kirsten explains. "I've already ran out there five times this morning, so I know."

"I saw your son when I pulled up your driveway. He's actually cleaning the garage?" Ray inquires. "How in the world did you manage that? I can't even get my kids to clean their rooms."

"Seth is grounded and he's doing chores to shave time off his sentence," Kirsten explains. "The funny thing is, even though Seth's terrified of spiders, his favorite superhero is Spiderman."

"Well, my favorite superhero is Batman, but the thought of being surrounded by hundreds of bats kind of gives me the willies," Ray says, making a shivering gesture with his shoulders.

Kirsten laughs. She likes this sheriff. Then she hears another scream.

"I'm going to fetch a can of Raid for Seth. The patio is straight through here past the kitchen," Kirsten say, pointing the way for the sheriff.

"Thank you, much obliged," Ray replies politely as he makes his way to the patio. The sheriff walks through the spacious home, anticipating his meeting with Ryan. He's relieved that Sandy will be with him.

 _The boy will need all the support he can get..._

* * *

"So, you need to take some Motrin," Sandy says, placing the two pills and bottle of water on the side table next to Ryan.

Ryan glances down at the pills and frowns. He doesn't feel he needs to take pain medicine anymore. After all, he's not in any severe pain. It's nothing he can't handle.

"Take the pills," Sandy states, noticing the boy scoffing just as his wife told him he would. "After today, you only need to take the pills as needed."

Ryan begrudgingly takes the pills and washes them down with a couple of swigs of water.

Sandy pulls another chaise lounger next to Ryan. He sits down and carefully observes the boy. He notices the color in Ryan's cheeks has come back. He's shed his gray hoodie in favor of the new clothing Kirsten had bought for him; a short-sleeve t-shirt in deep ocean blue, accentuating the blue in his eyes.

Sandy hears a faint sigh and immediately senses something may be weighing heavy on the boy's mind. "Ryan, what is it?" Sandy asks gently, not wanting to seem like he's prying.

Ryan dog-ears the page, closes the book and lets out another small sigh. "I was just wondering..." Ryan hesitates and bites his lower lip. He feels he may be asking too much.

"It's alright, what are you wondering?" Sandy asks, encouraging the boy to say what's on his mind.

Ryan looks over at Sandy and sees the man anxiously awaiting whatever he has to say. "I was wondering if... well, if it would be alright with you... if I could visit Trey."

"Of course, you can visit Trey," Sandy reassures. "He's your brother, so he's family."

"Really? It would be alright?"

"I'll make arrangements for tomorrow," Sandy says, thinking the situation with Dawn may have triggered the boy's desire to talk with his brother.

"Good afternoon. I hope I'm not interrupting."

Both Sandy and Ryan look up and see the tall, lanky sheriff approaching them.

"Sheriff Hicks, let me get you a chair," Sandy offers, taking a chair from the patio table and placing it next to Ryan.

"Thank you," Ray says, sitting down in the shade. "It's supposed to be another scorcher today... guess all week."

"I read we may be in for the hottest summer on record," Sandy says, joining in on the small talk.

"What are you reading?" Ray asks Ryan.

Ryan tilts the front of the book towards the sheriff.

"Ah, John Grisham's _The Client_ ," Ray says with approval. "He's one of my favorite authors."

"I saw the movie but always wanted to read the book," Ryan says.

"Books are always better but the movie was good. I mean, who wouldn't want Susan Sarandon, aka 'Reggie Love', to be their lawyer," Ray says with a playful wink.

Ryan tilts his head to the side and furrows his brow, somewhat confused by the sheriff's remark.

"When you get to be our age, Ryan" Sandy pipes in, "you'll understand."

"Well, you're probably wondering why I'm here," Ray says, deciding it's as good of a time as any to end the small talk.

"I'm assuming you've just come from the hearing," Sandy says, helping the sheriff ease into the delicate subject matter.

"Yes, I have," Ray acknowledges, then turns his full attention towards Ryan. "Ryan, Luke's hearing was this morning. I want to go over the details with you, if that's alright."

Ryan sits up straight in the lounge chair, interested in what the sheriff has to say.

"First of all, Luke's cohorts, Chip Saunders and Nordlund, are serving six months in juvie."

"Six months? Really?" Ryan inquires, somewhat surprised they got any sentence at all.

"Their telling of what transpired Friday night helped them make a deal," Ray continues. "They will start the school year with the best education the Department of Corrections has to offer and should be home with their families by Thanksgiving."

Ray observes Ryan to see if there's any hint of disappointment from the boy. He sees none.

"Luke Ward was the person the State Prosecutor was after," Ray continues. "He felt Luke was the one who instigated the attack. If Luke wasn't in the equation, then it would be safe to say that Nordlund and that Saunders kid wouldn't have assaulted you."

"So what's going to happen to Luke?" Ryan asks. He never expected anything to happen...

"There was a plea deal," Ray states. "In exchange for having the lesser charges dropped, Luke pled 'guilty' to assault."

"He pled guilty?" Ryan asks, trying to hide his surprise.

"With Luke's admission of guilt, he's received two years probation along with one-hundred hours community service," Ray explains. "He also must attend anger management classes and pay restitution."

"Restitution?" Ryan asks.

"Luke... or I should say, Luke's parents, have to pay for all of your medical expenses that were the result of the assault as well as the fire."

"Really, they included the fire?" Sandy inquires.

"Yes, the court reasoned that the fire would most likely not have been started if Ryan was not assaulted," Ray replies. "The two go hand in hand."

"Ah, I understand," Sandy says.

"Bob Cameron will call you this week to get your insurance information and work out the details," Ray says. "He's the Ward's lawyer..."

"I know Bob," Sandy says. "I'll get my insurance information over to him."

Ray turns his attention back over to Ryan. "Although the plea deal seems light, there is a catch," Ray says. "If Luke violates his probation, then he will be sent back to juvie to serve out his sentence until he reaches the age of eighteen. Then he will be sent to prison to serve out the one-year sentence for assault."

"I'm not sure if it's a good idea for Luke to go to prison," Ryan says quietly, almost to himself. "Someone like him... he wouldn't survive a day."

"It's the law, Ryan," Ray states, impressed by the boy's empathy. "We want to help Luke, but if he violates his parole, he will have to serve his time."

"I understand," Ryan acknowledges to the sheriff.

"I spoke with Carson and Meredith Ward after the hearing," Ray continues. "I believe this whole ordeal has been a real eye-opener for them."

"How do you mean?" Sandy asks.

"Most parents want to provide for their children, make sure they have everything they need," Ray says. "But, what happens when they hand their sixteen-year-old keys to a brand new SUV or gives their teenager their credit card when he wants to go to the mall with his friends. The kid never learns responsibility. Nothing is ever earned. The parents are giving their kids what they want, not what they need."

Sandy lowers his head slightly, realizing he and Kirsten are guilty of indulging their only son. They've never pushed Seth to be responsible. They've always just given him everything he's asked for. It was easier that way.

 _But not anymore,_ Sandy tells himself. _Things are going to be different from now on._

"When I spoke with Carson Ward, he told me he was going to have Luke work at his car dealership over the summer to help pay for Ryan's restitution," Ray says. "Between the community service of picking up garbage along the roadside two mornings a week and working at the dealership mopping floors, washing cars and answering the phones, hopefully Luke will be so busy this summer he won't have time to get into any more trouble."

"Well, if nothing else, garbage duty, mopping floors and dealing with irate customers over the phone should build some character," Sandy says, happy Luke's parents are being proactive and helping their son instead of making excuses for him and burying their heads in the sand.

"I hate to interrupt," Kirsten says, walking out onto the patio. "I'm heading out to the store. We've run out of Raid."

"Sweetheart, are you sure the garage is getting clean?" Sandy asks. "It sounds like it may have become more of a toxic chemical death trap."

Kirsten smiles at her husband, always appreciating his wry sense of humor. "I'll also pick up some pizzas for dinner and swing by the video store and rent the movie Ryan chose for us to watch tonight."

"What movie did you choose?" Ray asks Ryan. "I love movies. My wife swears I've seen them all."

Ryan looks sheepishly over at the sheriff and fails miserably at hiding his smile. "Arachnophobia."

"Ooh, that is so devious," Ray says, grinning from ear to ear, wondering if the Cohen's son will be as appreciative.

"We know," Sandy says, smiling right along with the sheriff.

"That was a fun movie," Ray continues. "If I remember correctly, it was the husband who was afraid of spiders."

"Seth will suffer," Kirsten admits. "But we've suffered through plenty of movies he has chosen to watch. I believe Ryan has made a stellar choice."

Kirsten looks over at Ryan and gives the boy a playful wink.

Ryan smiles again. He can't help but feel safe and content. These people... there's no stress or animosity. No one is fighting or screaming obscenities at each other. Plus, it's already the afternoon and no one is drunk yet.

 _I'm going to eat pizza tonight and watch a movie,_ Ryan thinks to himself. _The last time I did something like that, I was at Theresa's._

"Well, I should let you folks get on with your day," Ray says, standing up while donning his sheriff's hat.

"Let us see you out," Sandy offers as he and Kirsten begin to lead the sheriff back towards the house.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Ray says, reaching into his shirt pocket to retrieve Luke's letter. "Ryan, this is for you."

Ryan takes the envelope from the sheriff, feeling somewhat confused.

"You don't have to read it if you don't want to, but I was given the task of delivering it to you."

Ray begins to walk away, following Kirsten and Sandy into the house.

"Sheriff Hicks!" Ryan calls out.

Ray abruptly turns around and looks at the boy inquisitively.

"Thank you."

Ray smiles. "You're very welcome, Ryan. You take care now."

Ryan watches the sheriff disappear into the house with Kirsten and Sandy, then glances down at the envelope in his hand.

 _To: Ryan Atwood From: Luke Ward_

Ryan stares down at the handwriting and bites his lower lip, unsure of what he wants to do.

 _I don't think I want to read this right now._

Ryan places the envelope in between some pages of the book and sighs.

 _I_ _think I'll read it later..._


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.

 **A/N:** This story is  AU and begins after Luke carries Ryan out of the burning building.

 **One of the reasons I like to include Trey in many of my stories is because he's a way for me, as a writer, to give more depth and background into Ryan's past. This is something I felt was so neglected on the show.** **Plus, I'm also using Trey as a catalyst to push Ryan emotionally over the edge.**

 **Please remember, this story is AU after the model home fire. Many readers keep bringing up scenarios that happened on the show even though those events haven't occurred in this story and they never will. For example, Thanksgiving, which is still a good five months away. In my story, Trey and Ryan do not hate each other. Someone mentioned that Trey was out of Ryan's life for years, but the brothers were together in the Pilot episode. I don't believe it was ever explained why. So the nice thing about fanfiction is to add to the gaps and change things up.  
**

 **In my story, the brothers were once very close. And even though they may not be as close as they once were, they do share a past.**

 **Thank you for all the feedback and support. I really appreciate it!**

Chapter Eleven

"So, I guess Seth had a hard time sleeping last night," Sandy says to Ryan, exiting the freeway to head towards the California Institution for Men in Chino.

"Yeah, I guess telling him they used real spiders in the film and not CGI kind of freaked him out," Ryan says.

"But the General Spider at the end wasn't real," Sandy points out. "Was it?"

"That was animatronics," Ryan replies, appreciating how real the arachnid looked.

"How did you sleep?" Sandy asks, slipping the question in nonchalantly.

"Mmm... okay."

"Just okay?"

Sandy glances over at Ryan and notices the boy staring out the side window.

"Ryan, talk to me."

"It's just that... every time I try to turn over on my left side, I wake up," Ryan replies, keeping his voice even, not wanting to make a to-do about a couple of bruised ribs. He doesn't want to sound like he's complaining. "It's not a big deal."

"I remember a year ago I went surfing and wrenched my back," Sandy says, knowing Ryan won't ask for any help. So he's going to offer some. "Kirsten bought a body pillow for me. It gave me support on my right side, the side that I injured. It's super soft and comfortable. I think it's still in our closet. I'll tell Kirsten to put it in your bedroom."

 _My bedroom,_ Ryan thinks to himself. _Not the guest room. My room._

"It should offer you some support and make it more comfortable if you turn and sleep on your side."

Ryan glances over at Sandy and offers an appreciative smile. "Thanks," Ryan states earnestly.

Sandy smiles, happy he was able to be of some help. "So, tell me about Trey. What's his story."

Ryan looks over at Sandy, slightly confused. "You already know about him."

"I've read his rap sheet. I know the trouble he's been in, but I don't know anything about him or his circumstances," Sandy says, stopping at the red light.

Sandy knows that little boys don't aspire to be drug dealers, thieves or addicts. They don't envision living a life behind bars. They dream of being an astronaut, a fireman or hitting that grand slam home run to win the World Series.

"I would very much like to know Trey's story. Do you know how he got involved in drugs?"

Ryan turns away from Sandy and stares back out the passenger side window.

"My mom," Ryan utters softly.

"Your mother?" Sandy asks, somewhat surprised, but he knows he probably shouldn't be. A car behind him honks impatiently. Sandy notices the light has turned green and slowly begins inching his way through the crowded intersection.

"After my dad was sent to prison, my mom... well... she kind of lost it," Ryan says, trying his best to explain his and Trey's living situation when they were younger. "After a few years, she decided to move us to Chino. My mom started drinking a lot, well... more than her usual... and she got involved with some men. I don't know, for some reason my mom felt she needed to have a man in her life."

Sandy takes a quick look over at Ryan. He notices the boy just staring blankly out the window, but he knows his mind is anything but a blank. He can only hope the kid will keep talking.

"One of my mom's boyfriends... I can't remember his name... was into drugs," Ryan continues, his voice steady and emotionless. "Trey was just starting his sophomore year in high school and she..." Ryan glances down at his lap and starts fiddling with the gauze wrapped around his right hand. "My mom had Trey deal drugs for her stupid boyfriend. I remember Trey didn't want to do it at first, but then he realized he had to," Ryan says, glancing over at Sandy, "you know... in order to keep the peace."

Sandy stops at another red light and runs his hand over his face.

 _To keep the peace,_ Sandy laments to himself. _In other words, to keep from being a human punching bag._

Sandy tries to shake off the thought, wondering how many times both Trey and Ryan had to endure being on the receiving end of a stinging slap or punishing fist. And the notion of sending one's child to do something so dangerous and also illegal just boggles his mind, but it's not the first time he's encountered it. He's seen parents use their own children in illegal or unethical activities too many times, and it's the children who always suffer.

"I was hanging out with Theresa a lot," Ryan says, holding onto maybe the only positive thing in his life when he lived in Chino. "And then..."

"And then, what?" Sandy asks, noticing the light has turned green and finds himself relieved no one is honking at him.

"My brother got busted."

Sandy sighs, knowing that couldn't have gone well.

"Trey spent six months in juvie and came out very angry."

"Did Trey ever inform the cops or his Public Defender that his mother had put him up to it? That she had forced him into dealing drugs?" Sandy asks, knowing that the kid would have probably gotten parole and a slap on the wrist. Less time for a teenager to stew behind bars and get angry at the world.

"No," Ryan replies. "I had asked him once why he didn't rat our mother out along with her good-for-nothing boyfriend and he said that, if he did, he was afraid I would have been taken away and placed in a group home." Ryan glances over at Sandy and offers a small smile. "He felt I was better off at home because I could go over to Theresa's whenever I needed to... well, you know... get away."

 _Escape..._

"Your brother was very young," Sandy acknowledges as he turns into the California Institution for Men and heads towards the visitor's parking lot. "It sounds like he tried to do what he could for you. He tried his best."

"Yeah, he did try but... Trey didn't have it easy."

 _Neither of us did..._

Ryan takes in the stark landscape as Sandy drives past row upon row of nondescript buildings. He glances out the side window and sees a tall guard tower in the distance and an American flag perched high over a barbed wire fence. Two lone palm trees add a touch of greenery to the prison ambiance.

"Trey should be starting rehab and I do know they offer high school GED courses here at the prison," Sandy says as he pulls into a parking spot and turns off the ignition. "I know they also offer vocational programs like basic welding and masonry." Sandy turns and faces Ryan. "They even offer a deep sea diving class."

Ryan cocks an eyebrow in disbelief. "Deep sea diving?"

"Honest to god, it's true," Sandy says, holding his right hand up as if taking a vow. "What I'm trying to say, Ryan, is that your brother's life isn't over. Not by a long shot. There are people and programs in place to help guys like Trey, but it's up to him to start making smart choices. He'll probably be up for parole in a year. How he chooses to spend this time behind bars is up to him. He can squander his time away or strive to make changes so he'll have a chance at a better future."

Ryan smiles with appreciation. He knows Sandy can become impassioned when it comes to helping people. Ryan wonders how he got so lucky.

"Well, we're here," Sandy states as he and Ryan get out of the car. "Do you still want to visit your brother?"

Ryan looks out at the Welcome Center and believes it's the only building that actually looks "welcoming".

"Yeah, I do," Ryan replies.

"All right, then," Sandy says, placing his hand on Ryan's shoulder as they start walking towards the entrance to the prison. "Let's go visit Trey."

* * *

"Are they home yet?" Seth asks, walking into the kitchen with his shoulders slumped.

Kirsten frowns at her son. He's been moping around the house, all because she and Sandy refused to let him tag along with Ryan to visit his brother.

"They've only been gone an hour," Kirsten says, leafing through a cookbook and wondering if she could make something for dinner. Maybe something that doesn't require the use of the stove or oven. "You could start cleaning the pool. That would keep you busy."

"You told me I could take a day off," Seth states, reminding his mother he's taking a vacation day. "I'm still recovering from cleaning out the garage."

"And you did a splendid job," Kirsten says, putting her arm around her son's sagging shoulders. "Since you're taking a break from chores, you can go play one of your video games."

"I guess..." Seth sighs, ambling slowly out of the kitchen into the family room. "It would be a lot more fun though, with Ryan."

* * *

Ryan jumps slightly when the solid steel door shuts behind him. The loud noise echoing down the stark, cement corridor sends chills up his spine. He follows Sandy down the hall to Security. Ryan notices an overweight guard sitting behind the desk looking bored. He sees another guard standing behind the metal detector looking like he could be a linebacker for the Oakland Raiders. Even though his brother is in Minimum Security, Ryan sees that security is anything but "minimum".

"I'll need you to empty your pockets," the guard behind the desk states. "Keys, cell phones... dump it all in here."

Ryan shoves his hands in his pockets, but he comes up with nothing but an old gum wrapper. Sandy puts his keys and cell phone in the plastic box, then takes out his wallet. He's done this before.

"You'll also need to take your belts off," the guard states in a monotonous tone of voice. "You'll get them back when you pass through the metal detector."

Ryan flinches slightly at the sound of leather whipping through belt loops as Sandy quickly removes his belt. With his nerves slightly frazzled, Ryan wipes the perspiration off his brow with his gauze-covered right hand and fumbles nervously to remove his own belt.

"I need to see photo IDs."

Ryan takes his wallet out of his back pocket and produces his Chino High School ID from last year. He sets it on the desktop next to Sandy's driver's license.

Sandy looks at Ryan's ID picture and frowns. He notes the boy's black eye and swollen upper lip. No smile. It reminds Sandy more of a mug shot than a school ID.

The guard raises an eyebrow, comparing the teenager in the photo to the teenager standing in front of him, but says nothing. He hands the ID back to Ryan and instructs the boy to walk through the metal detector.

Ryan lets out a long sigh and tries to calm himself as he prepares to walk through the metal detector. He knows with his luck it will probably go off. Then he'll be whisked away to a back room by some gargantuan browbeater to endure the indignity of a strip search.

"Come on, kid. We don't got all day," the guard states impatiently.

Ryan looks over at Sandy and sees him nod, urging him to go forward; the warmth in the man's eyes reassuring him everything will be alright. Ryan walks through the metal detector and breathes a sigh of relief when it doesn't go off.

 _Maybe my luck is changing..._

"Spread your legs and hold your arms out at your sides," the guard orders as he begins running the metal detector wand over Ryan's body.

Ryan watches as the guard meticulously scans every inch of his body with the wand. He then winces slightly when the guard begins patting him down with his hands. Ryan wonders if he should tell the guard his rib cage is bruised but quickly decides against it. He knows from experience it's best to say nothing.

"You okay kid?" the guard asks as he hands Ryan his belt.

Ryan looks warily at the guard, wondering to himself if it's a trick question.

"I'm fine," Ryan replies softly, trying to steady his shaky hands as he struggles to put his belt back on. He knows Sandy is with him. If anything should happen, Sandy would know what to do.

"Your brother's in the courtyard," the linebacker guard states as he walks Sandy and Ryan down yet another long corridor. "Visitation is one hour."

Ryan steps out into the prison courtyard and squints his eyes against the bright sun. He notices some inmates in orange jumpsuits, courtesy of the California DOC, playing basketball even though the temperature is creeping up into the nineties. He searches for his brother and finally spots him sitting at a picnic table nestled in the shade.

"Ryan, you made it," Trey says, happy to see his younger brother as he stands up from the picnic table. "And you must be Mr. Cohen."

"Sandy... please, call me Sandy," Sandy states with a gracious smile as he shakes the young man's hand.

Trey sits back down on the bench across from Ryan and reaches for a cigarette.

"Oh... um... Trey, if you could... please don't smoke," Sandy says.

"What? Why?" Trey asks, somewhat annoyed. "I'm outside for Christ's sake. I can't smoke inside anymore. Some sorta clean air law..."

"Ryan is still recovering from smoke inhalation from the fire," Sandy explains calmly. "He really can't breath in any second-hand smoke."

"Oh yeah... that's right. Sorry, Ry... I wasn't thinkin'," Trey says as he places the cigarette behind his ear. He'll smoke it later.

"And for what it's worth, you may want to think about quitting altogether," Sandy says.

"Why? I'm already in drug rehab," Trey says. "I like to come out here for an occasional smoke."

"They've just passed legislation that will outlaw smoking even outdoors in California prisons," Sandy says, breaking the bad news as gently as he can. "The law will take affect a year from now."

"Are you fuckin' serious?"

"I'm afraid so," Sandy says, wincing slightly at the foul language. "But if it's any consolation, the law will apply to everyone, including the people who work here."

"Great. So the guards will be piss ass irritable as well as the inmates," Trey scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. "What the hell are they thinkin'?"

"The State wants to save money on prisoner health care costs," Sandy explains.

"Oh, yeah? Well, good for them," Trey states. "All I can see are tempers flaring, possible riots and, of course, the rise of a lucrative black market."

Trey glances over at Ryan and sees a slight hint of panic emerge across the boy's bruised face.

"Oh, don't worry kid," Trey says. "I ain't gonna do anything stupid. At least I hope not."

"Well, I'll give you two some privacy," Sandy says. "Ryan, I'll be sitting right over there if you need me."

Ryan smiles and nods at Sandy, then turns his attention over to Trey.

"So, how are you? Are you doing okay?" Ryan asks.

"Yeah, I'm doin' just peachy," Trey replies. "I got a roof over my head, three squares a day, and twice a week I get to attend group therapy with my fellow junkies and listen to some over-educated, pompous asshole of a shrink urge us to talk about our sorry plight."

"So, in other words, you're miserable."

Trey lets out a short chuckle, then runs his hand over his face to wipe away the mid-afternoon sweat. He's through talking about himself. He's here for at least another year, maybe longer. He wants to know about his brother.

"So the assholes who did that to you," Trey says, nodding at the bruises on his brother's face. "Are they gettin' punished?"

"Yeah, they are," Ryan replies, still somewhat surprised there was any retribution. He recalls the Sheriff's visit yesterday and still finds himself amazed that anything was done on his behalf. Ryan discreetly pinches himself to make sure he's not dreaming then remembers the letter Sheriff Hicks gave him. He knows he should probably read it.

 _I'll read it tonight..._

"So your lawyer, Mr. Cohen, he's okay?" Trey asks, crossing his arms on the table and leaning in towards Ryan. "I mean, he ain't tryin' to mess with ya, is he? 'Cuz if I find out he's messin' with ya, I swear to god, I'll kill him."

"No, Sandy's not like that," Ryan says, reassuring his brother.

"He's one of the good guys, huh?" Trey says with a hint of skepticism in his voice. "Well, like some people say, maybe everything happens for a reason."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is if you weren't hangin' out with me..."

"I didn't want to go home," Ryan interrupts. "Mom was working and AJ was at the house."

"Well, at least I know I rank a notch above AJ," Trey says, his voice laced with a touch of sarcasm.

"That's not what I meant," Ryan says quietly, lowering his head.

"As I was sayin', if I didn't force you into stealin' that car with me, you would've never met Mr. Cohen."

Ryan stares down at the picnic table, thinking about how things have turned out.

 _I got Sandy Cohen as my Public Defender and my brother ended up with some apathetic, stupid buffoon._

Ryan picks up a small, thick twig laying next to him on the bench and begins scraping the top of the table with the sharp end.

"Mom left," Ryan says softly. "She went to Vegas."

"Well, good for her."

"I'm worried about her," Ryan says.

"Well don't be," Trey says. "She ain't worth it."

"What's going to happen to her when she runs out of money?" Ryan asks, looking up at his brother.

"Who the hell cares."

"I saw this segment on _60 Minutes_..."

"You watch _60 Minutes_?" Trey interrupts. "I would think most kids your age would be playin' video games.

Ryan rolls his eyes then continues. "It featured a segment on what happens to people in Vegas when they lose everything. Many become homeless and they end up living in these underground tunnels beneath the city. It's filthy and disgusting..."

"Your point?" Trey asks, unmoved by the information.

"What if Mom ends up homeless there," Ryan says, trying to make his point. "She's an alcoholic. She'd be surrounded by drug addicts and thieves. She would be in danger."

"Let's back up a bit," Trey states, making a counter-clockwise circling motion in the air with his index finger. He's relieved he doesn't possess the empathy his little brother seems to have. It certainly saves him a hell of a lot of grief. "Remember dear old Dad?"

Ryan glances back down at the picnic table and begins carving lines again with the sharp twig.

"He was an asshole when he drank. And after he lost his job, he drank even more," Trey continues. "I would hide you in our bedroom closet and cover you with our dirty clothes in hope that Dad wouldn't find you."

Ryan etches another line into the tabletop as he recalls hiding in his bedroom closet. He was five, maybe six years old. His brother covering him with clothes, warning him not to say a word.

 _"Keep your mouth shut, Ry... Don't make a sound."_

Ryan remembers hearing the screams as his father's fists hit flesh and broke bone. And the crying. His mother's earsplitting cries pleading for mercy; the promises of doing better. She would make him happy if only he would stop.

 _It didn't matter..._

He'd make just a slight whimper...

 _Don't make a sound..._

Tucked deep in the corner of the closet, he would try to make himself as small as possible... willing himself to become invisible. He remembers staring at the sliver of light that would shine through the gap in the closet door. He would stare and listen...

His father would beat his mother. Then he would turn his rage onto his brother.

 _Don't make a sound..._

But he couldn't help himself. He trembled with fear and started to cry. He then watched in horror as the sliver of light disappeared. Someone was standing... lurking in front of the closet. The door was pushed open. His hiding place was found.

 _"Gotcha!"_

"Mom stopped being a 'mom' to us long ago," Trey says.

"She was abused," Ryan says, his voice shaking after thinking about the past.

"Yes, she was," Trey agrees. "And so were we. She's our mother, Ry. She was supposed to protect us."

"I know, but..."

"No buts!" Trey says, clearly aggravated. "She had options. She could have gone to a shelter for abused women and brought us with her. She could've had him arrested... gotten a restraining order. But, she did nothing to protect us. She did fuckin' nothing!"

Ryan hears his brother's words. He knows his mother should have protected them but...

"Do you remember when I got out of juvie?" Trey asks. "I was sixteen. I didn't rat Mom out and what did she do? She threw me out of the house."

Trey takes the cigarette he had nestled behind his ear and begins flipping it around between his fingers. "Hmm... let's see... didn't she throw you out of the house? See a pattern there, kiddo?"

Ryan lowers his head as he remembers the day his brother returned home from juvie. He didn't understand why his mother wanted Trey out of the house. He was so young. Where would he go?

"Our mother can rot in those damn tunnels as far as I'm concerned," Trey says.

"Trey, I still..."

"How many times did you go home at night and find Mom passed out on the bathroom floor, laying in her own vomit?" Trey asks.

Trey observes his brother recoil slightly. He knows he's hit a nerve.

"And what did you do, huh?" Trey asks. "I know what you did. You cleaned her up and helped her sorry ass into bed."

Ryan lets go of the sharp twig and just stares blankly down at his haphazard carvings.

"And it's what, fuckin' one in the morning?" Trey continues, not caring if he's upsetting his brother. The kid needs to face the truth. "You'd go back into the bathroom to breathe in the god awful stench and clean up the mess. And for what? Huh?"

Trey leans in closer to his brother, so close he can feel the kid's breath.

"You wake up the next day to a hard, stinging slap to the face and Mom's glarin' down at you... screamin' at you, all because you forgot to pick her up a pack of goddamn cigarettes!" Trey wails, trying to keep his voice down. "Jesus Christ, Ry! Here I thought you were the smart one. But sometimes, I swear to god, you can be a goddamn fuckin' idiot!"

Trey looks hard at his younger brother and waits. He waits for a reaction. Something... anything, but he gets nothing. By now, Trey would have expected his brother to tell him to "shut the hell up!" accompanied with a well-deserved punch to his face.

"Ry, what is it? What's goin' on?" Trey asks with concern.

Ryan shrugs his shoulders and retreats slightly.

"There's somethin' more going on with you and it's not about Mom," Trey discerns. He knows from past experience that anything regarding "Dawn" would result in an animated argument. But his brother is anything but animated. He's retreated. "Talk to me, Ry."

"Two minutes, Atwood!" a guard warns.

"Shit!" Trey says, exasperated. "Ryan, is this about the jerks who hurt you?"

Ryan shakes his head "no".

"We don't got much time. Talk to me," Trey pleads as he watches his brother struggle with some sort of demon. "Is it about AJ?" Trey asks. "Cuz you never gave a rat's ass about that lowlife."

Trey watches as his brother shrugs away that scenario. He's starting to run out of ideas.

"Wait a minute... that group home you were in when Mom went into rehab," Trey says, recalling how he had asked Child Services if his brother could live with him. They wouldn't allow it. He had a criminal record. "There was a nickname on the streets for that place, somethin' like 'Motel Hell'."

Trey lets out an exasperated sigh. He looks over at the impatient guard who in turn points to his watch.

"All right, listen to me. You need to talk to Sandy," Trey states firmly, wanting to get his point across.

"I don't want to burden him," Ryan says softly. "I'm already a burden..."

"You're not a burden," Trey says. "He's your legal guardian as well as your lawyer. You got the best of both worlds there, kid. I say, milk it."

"Ryan, visitation time is up," Sandy says, unhappy to break the news. "We need to go."

Ryan abruptly stands up and begins walking away, only to be stopped by his brother.

Trey places his arms around Ryan, leans down and whispers in his brother's ear, "Talk to Sandy. Whatever it is, he can help. Trust him, kid... You need to trust him."

Trey releases his grip and looks into his brother's wary eyes. "Talk to Sandy. He's one of the good guys, right? That's what you told me, so talk to him. If you don't do it for yourself, do it for me."

Ryan offers his brother a small smile but finds himself unable to promise anything.

"Take good care of my brother," Trey tells Sandy as he watches Ryan walk away.

"I will," Sandy assures the young man.

Sandy scurries to catch up with Ryan and places his hand upon the boy's shoulder. He's suddenly taken aback when Ryan shrugs his hand off his shoulder, not wanting to be touched.

 _Something happened,_ Sandy thinks to himself, having observed the intense conversation from a few yards away, but was unable to hear all that was said over the din of the basketball game. Sandy becomes concerned with the boy's sudden change in demeanor. When they were walking into the prison just a little over an hour ago, Ryan seemed completely comfortable with Sandy having his hand on his shoulder.

Sandy looks back at Trey and watches as the young man lights up his cigarette; slowly drawing the nicotine into his lungs, then steadily exhaling the smoke through his nostrils.

Sandy runs his hand through his thick hair then quickly catches up to Ryan again. He notices the teenager walking briskly with his head down and his shoulders hunched over; his hands jammed firmly into his pants pockets.

 _It's going to be a very long, silent drive home,_ Sandy thinks to himself, knowing the boy won't talk to him right away. He's going to need time to think; organize his thoughts.

 _But I believe we may both be in for a very long night..._


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.

 **A/N:** This story is  AU and begins after Luke carries Ryan out of the burning building.

 **I want to extend a special "thank you" to the readers who gave positive reviews for my last chapter. I noticed a lot came from my fellow fanfic writers. :-) I'm happy that readers are open and accepting to rewriting backgrounds and changing characters a bit, for better or worse, to fit into a story line. The positive feedback really helps keep me motivated to continue writing.**

 **For those readers wanting more interaction between Kirsten and Ryan, I do have a chapter planned (I think it will be chapter fourteen) that will focus more on them. As far as Seth is concerned, I really don't know how to fit him into this story, so I'll just continue to torture him with chores. :-)**

 **Also, for those readers who have been experiencing a bit of withdrawal, there is Sandy/Ryan time in this chapter. :-)**

Chapter Twelve

"I'm worried about Ryan," Kirsten says as she finishes removing her makeup, completing her bedtime ritual. She glances out the master bathroom and sees her husband sitting on the edge of the bed, still dressed in the clothes he wore when he took Ryan to visit his brother. "He barely touched his dinner and he was so quiet. He hardly spoke a word. Did something happen today with Trey?"

Sandy lets out a long, plaintive sigh and runs his hand over his tired face.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," Kirsten says, walking into the bedroom. Kirsten sits down on the bed next to her husband and takes his hand into hers. "What happened today?"

"I'm not sure," Sandy says quietly, almost in a whisper. "I noticed Ryan was jumpy... very on edge when we were going through security."

"Why would the boy be anxious about going through security?" Kirsten asks.

"I don't think it was the security, per se," Sandy replies. "I think it was the security guards."

Kirsten glances down at her lap, replaying the words she just heard. She knows Ryan had been in juvie for a short time, but he was also in a group home for at least a month.

 _Something happened to him. Someone did something to him..._

"Ryan clearly wanted to see his brother," Kirsten says, needing to understand the boy's behavior. "Do you have any idea why?"

"I know that, to Ryan, we must still be like strangers to him," Sandy replies. "The kid's father is in prison and his mother abandoned him. Trey is the only person he has left who truly knows him. For better or worse, Ryan shares a common bond with his brother. I sensed some uneasiness between them, but also a connection. They have secrets. Dark, painful secrets."

"I wonder if Ryan will ever trust us enough to share those secrets with us," Kirsten says with a hint of sadness in her voice.

"One thing I do know," Sandy says as he gently squeezes his wife's hand. "We can't force Ryan to confide in us. He needs to feel safe enough so he'll eventually open up. The boy needs to come to us, otherwise, I'm afraid if I push him he'll just shut down."

Kirsten sighs. She never imagined having these thoughts... these feelings... She thinks about Ryan and how quiet the boy was at dinner. He basically just played with his food. He barely ate anything. Seth monopolized the conversation, and for that, she sensed Ryan appreciated the distraction.

 _He doesn't want any attention focused on him,_ Kirsten thinks to herself. In fact, she senses the boy would just as soon be invisible.

 _You don't need to be invisible anymore..._

"Are you staying up tonight?" Kirsten asks, noticing her husband hasn't begun to get ready for bed.

"I've got some work to do in preparation for Thursday's court hearing," Sandy replies, placing a kiss on top of his wife's head.

"Is that the case that involves the mentally ill boy?" Kirsten asks.

"Yes," Sandy replies as he heads towards the bedroom door. "I really don't know how long I'll be, so don't wait up for me."

Sandy closes the bedroom door and quietly makes his way to his home office. He'll try to get some work done and then ponder whether he should check in on Ryan or give the boy his space.

* * *

"So I played this awesome game today," Seth tells Ryan as they walk down the hallway. "It's a fighting game with ninjas... it's so cool!"

Ryan stops outside his bedroom door. He cocks an eyebrow as he observes Seth's excitement; his friend's mouth spewing excruciatingly specific details about his new video game. Ryan wonders if Seth will eventually run out of words, but quickly comes to the conclusion that he will, most likely, not.

"I thought you might want to try it out," Seth proposes, clearly not ready to call it a night.

Ryan looks down at his hands. Although the bruising and swelling on his knuckles has gone down, he still has the stitches in his right hand.

"I don't think I'd be able to... you know," Ryan says, holding his gauze-wrapped hand up in front of Seth. "I'm not sure I'd be able to use the game controller... at least not effectively."

"Oh, that's right. I'm sorry, I forgot," Seth says, realizing his lapse in judgement. "Maybe you'd like to listen to this new CD I bought. It's great! I think you'd like it."

"I'm really tired, Seth," Ryan says, trying to break the bad news as gently as he can. He doesn't want to hurt his friend's feelings. He's just had enough for one day. More than enough.

"Of course, you must be exhausted, visiting your brother and all," Seth acknowledges. "Well, maybe tomorrow after I get done cleaning the pool..."

"Sure, that sounds great," Ryan says with a heartfelt smile.

"Good night, Ryan."

"'Night, Seth," Ryan says as he steps into his bedroom and closes the door.

Ryan walks over to the tall oak double-dresser and opens the top drawer.

 _My clothes have been multiplying,_ Ryan thinks to himself as he shuffles through the neatly folded clothing and retrieves some dark navy blue sleep pants.

Ryan begins the tedious task of undressing. First, he begins removing his t-shirt. Lifting his arms up over his head is still troublesome, but he doesn't let the pain keep him from achieving his simple task.

Ryan grimaces as he pulls the t-shirt up over his head. He pauses a moment and breathes, concentrating on keeping his breathing steady as he finishes taking off his shirt.

 _I can do this..._

Ryan neatly folds the t-shirt Kirsten bought for him and places it in the dresser drawer. He then begins to take off his pants. He fumbles with his belt and remembers how nervous he was going through security.

 _Next time I visit Trey, I won't wear a belt..._

Ryan steps out of his pants and folds them, placing them in the dresser on top of his t-shirt. He then slips the comfortable sleep pants on and ties the drawstring around his waist. He takes a clean white crew neck undershirt out of the dresser drawer and puts it on; carefully threading his arms through the armholes and then slowly pulling the garment down over his bruised torso.

Finally dressed for bed, Ryan glances around the warm, cozy bedroom and recalls his brother's words.

 _"Maybe everything happens for a reason..."_

"Why did I get Sandy for my lawyer?" Ryan whispers quietly to himself. "How did I get so lucky?"

 _I've got a father and now a brother who are sitting behind bars,_ Ryan laments to himself. _And, I've got a mother who prefers sitting at a bar..._

Ryan leans his forehead against the top of the double-dresser, closes his eyes and sighs.

"I'm a real prize..."

* * *

Sandy looks over the case file in front of him, willing himself to concentrate on his work. He gets distracted when his cell phone rings. He notices on the caller ID that it's his Investigator, Sam.

"Sam, it's Sandy. Do you have any news?" Sandy asks.

 _"Well, I've got good news and I've got bad news. Which would you like to hear first?"_

Sandy lets out a sigh, then replies, "Give me the good news first. It's been a really long day."

 _"We got a lot of photos of Dawn Atwood behaving... well, how shall I put it... badly."_

"That's good news, Sam," Sandy replies. He had already started a file on "Dawn Atwood". All he's been needing is photo evidence and a timeline. "And, the bad news?"

 _"She's gone. I can't find her anywhere. She must've run out of money and taken off during the night."_

"That's alright, Sam," Sandy says, hearing the frustration in his colleague's voice. "Don't beat yourself up over it. Believe me, she's not worth it."

 _"What would you like me to do now?"_

"Come back to the office," Sandy replies. "I think we have everything we need."

 _"Will do."_

"Oh, and Sam..." Sandy quickly adds before his colleague hangs up.

 _"Yes?"_

"Thank you. I can only imagine how Dawn was able to suck all the fun out of Vegas for you."

 _"Like a heavy duty industrial-sized 'Shop-Vac'. But, it's work. Just please... don't ask me to do this again."_

Sandy smiles as he ends his call, then returns his attention to the case file on his desk. He again finds his mind drifting... thinking about Ryan.

* * *

Ryan walks over and sits on the edge of his bed. He notices the body pillow placed on top of the comforter. He runs his hand over the smooth cotton and squeezes the pillow, noting the plush softness.

Ryan smiles and whispers, "Thank you, Kirsten."

He then sees his book on the side table with the envelope peeking out between the pages.

Ryan removes the envelope and flips it around in his hand. He bites his lower lip and reads the printing on the back of the envelope as he contemplates opening it.

 _To: Ryan Atwood From: Luke Ward_

Ryan lets out a long sigh.

 _What in the world could Luke Ward have to say to me?_

Ryan can only guess that Luke is writing to tell him to go back to Chino and crawl back under the rock he crawled out from. Or maybe he'll accuse him of trying to steal Marissa away from him.

 _I never asked her over that night. She just showed up..._

Ryan flips the envelope around in his hand again, then makes the decision to open it.

 _I've used it as a bookmark long enough..._

Ryan unfolds the lined stationary note and begins to read Luke's words.

 _"Ryan,_

 _As part of my plea agreement, I'm supposed to write you a formal apology. But as I sit here, trying not to feel so angry, I've realized that I'm not angry with you. I'm angry at myself. I'll admit it. I was jealous. I think I still am. Shit, how pathetic is that. I wish I could turn back time and not have followed Marissa to the model home. I've been told she was pursuing you and not the other way around. I just wanted you to go away, to go back to where you came from. I realize now that I was wrong._

 _I never really intended to hurt you so badly. I just wanted to scare you so you'd go back to Chino. I'm on probation now. Guess we now got something in common. But, I'm facing prison. Major time if I screw up. You must be laughing. Thinking I got what I deserve. Wouldn't blame you a bit._

 _So, I'm sorry. I fucked up big time. I don't expect you to ever forgive me. Hell, I wouldn't forgive me. I'm a jerk._

 _I've been told you were released from the hospital and that you're going to be alright. Did I mention what a jerk I've been?_

 _Again, I'm sorry,_

 _Luke"_

Ryan folds the piece of paper up and places it back into the envelope.

 _Luke's apologizing... or at least trying to..._

Ryan smiles. He wasn't expecting an apology, even if it was somewhat "forced". He again hears his brother's words in his head.

 _"Maybe everything happens for a reason..."_

"What would have happened if Seth didn't catch me trying to run away?" Ryan whispers, thinking back to that fateful night when he suffered yet another nightmare and all he wanted to do was escape. "I was going to hitchhike my way down to Texas."

Ryan shakes his head and laughs to himself. "What was I thinking?"

Ryan plays out the most likely scenario in his head.

 _I'm a teenager without a driver's license and no address. I've got no place to live. The chance that I would have been able to find legitimate work would have been slim to none_ , Ryan thinks to himself. _I would have ended up being a courier, pedaling my bike through the city streets in ninety degree heat, but I probably wouldn't have been delivering anything legal._

"Most likely drug money," Ryan whispers solemnly.

Ryan lets out a long sigh as he wonders what would have happened if he couldn't find any work at all. He'd have no money, no place to live. When would the desperation set in and he'd be forced to find the area of the city where he would have to stand on the street corner with other "down-on-their-luck boys" to earn a few bucks; selling himself just so he could get a burger at the local fast food joint.

Ryan hangs his head low and sighs. "You might be a jerk, Luke. But, my brother is right. I am an idiot."

Ryan places the book and Luke's letter into the side table drawer. He then just sits on the edge of the bed, replaying that last night he spent in the pool house over and over in his mind.

 _I had to run away. I couldn't go back to that group home. There was no way I was going back..._

Ryan feels an uneasiness creep up inside him; an icy hand with sharp, jagged nails clawing its way up through his gut and into his chest.

 _What did my brother call it... motel hell?_

Ryan swallows the hard lump that has formed in his throat. He struggles to rid himself of the anxiety quickly building up inside him. He tries breathing slowly, but it doesn't help.

"I'm never going to fall asleep tonight..." Ryan sighs softly.

 _"Talk to Sandy. Whatever it is, he can help. Trust him, kid..."_

"I don't want to burden him," Ryan whispers, answering his brother's plea.

 _"You're not a burden. He's your legal guardian..."_

"Sandy's my guardian," Ryan acknowledges as he gingerly stands up and makes his way across the hall to the bathroom.

Ryan walks over to the bathroom sink and turns on the water. He leans over and, with his left hand, splashes the cool water onto his face. Ryan stands back up, peers at his reflection in the mirror and suddenly hears Sandy's reassuring words.

 _"Kirsten and I are here for you... You can talk to us about anything."_

Ryan stares into the mirror, taking in his pallor and notes the bruising around his eye is still in multiple shades of purple and black. But he knows in just a few more days, that color will change to an ugly yellowish-brown.

"Maybe I should talk to him," Ryan whispers quietly, struggling with his innermost feelings. He's always kept everything to himself. It was just easier that way.

 _"Talk to Sandy..."_

"I want to, Trey," Ryan whispers to his brother, as if Trey is with him in the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub.

Realizing he won't be able to fall asleep, Ryan walks out of the bathroom and carefully makes his way downstairs in the dark. The moonlight shining through the front door illuminates the foyer, casting an eerie glow upon the walls as he descends the spiral staircase.

Ryan remembers Sandy saying that he had a case he was working on and he would be staying up late.

 _Maybe he's still up..._

Ryan stops abruptly just outside Sandy's home office. He notices the door is slightly ajar. An intense feeling of dread envelops him as he stares at the sliver of light emanating through the crack. Ryan stands completely still, staring at the sliver of light as he swallows the lump in his throat and wipes the beads of sweat forming on his brow.

 _I'm not hiding in a closet. I'm in a hallway... the Cohen's hallway..._

Ryan wills himself to shake off the debilitating anxiety and paralyzing fear. He slowly approaches the door. With his heart racing he takes one step forward, then another. He takes in a deep breath and, with all the courage he can muster, raises his hand up to knock on the door.

Sitting at his desk, Sandy hears a soft knock. He peers up and sees Ryan cautiously peeking his head inside the office.

"Do you... um... have a minute, Sandy?"

Sandy immediately stops working, bolts up from his chair and makes his way to the door to show the boy into his office.

"For you, I have many minutes," Sandy says reassuringly as he guides the tentative boy over to the comfortable armchair. Sandy sits down on the couch just a couple of feet away across from Ryan. "I have as many minutes as you need."

Sandy sits quietly, waiting for Ryan to say something.

Ryan stares down at his lap and fiddles with some loose threads on the gauze wrapping his right hand.

Sandy notices the boy keeping his head lowered, clearly not ready to make eye contact. Seconds turn into minutes and, to Sandy, the silence is deafening. But he refrains from saying anything. He knows Ryan needs to speak first.

"Bob Stankey."

Sandy immediately sits up straight when he hears Ryan softly utter a man's name.

"Bob Stankey?" Sandy inquires, thinking the name seems eerily familiar.

Ryan glances up at Sandy with wary eyes; his demeanor cautious and guarded. "He was the worst."

Sandy suddenly realizes why the name is familiar to him. It was from the newspaper article he read on the group home. Bob Stankey is one of the adults being brought up on abuse charges.

"There was this outbuilding on the back of the property," Ryan continues, lowering his head again while he pulls at another loose thread. "Every Friday night they brought us out there to... well, we had to fight."

"They ran a fight club?" Sandy asks, furrowing his brow at the thought.

"Yeah, strangers would come... most of them men. They would place wagers on us. Stankey always chose me." Ryan again briefly glances up at Sandy and adds, "I was his favorite."

Ryan thinks back to his time spent at the group home. It's been almost nine months since he was released. He recalls usually being able to get by most days just by staying quiet and doing his chores. But then Friday would arrive.

 _Most people look forward to Fridays._ Ryan smirks slightly at the thought. _But we dreaded it..._

Sandy runs his hand over his beleaguered face. He's heard of illegal gladiator-style "fight clubs" in prisons so he's not completely shocked that people running a group home for troubled teenage boys... boys who are rife with testosterone... would stoop to such a depraved and exploitative form of entertainment.

"They had us take off our shirts, shoes and socks. There were no rules," Ryan says with a steady voice. "If you hit the dirt, they'd start to count to ten. If you didn't stand back up, you lost."

The faces are only a blur now; faces of other boys he was forced to fight against. Ryan can still hear the rowdy spectators, prodding on their favorites as they rooted for their pick. He remembers the stifling claustrophobia of being surrounded by the circle of unruly gamblers trying to make a hundred bucks off the blatant exploitation of kids. He can still feel the rough dirt grinding into the soles of his bare feet along with the stench of sweat and blood being spewed into the dusty air after landing a successful punch.

"What would happen if a boy refused to fight?" Sandy asks, wondering if there was some form of punishment.

Ryan shivers at the thought. "They would put you in the hole."

 _The hole,_ Sandy thinks to himself, recalling the description in the newspaper.

" _An old storm shelter with creaky wooden stairs leading down... now just a dark hole... a cold empty pit with a wooden hatch locked shut for days at a time."_

"It was better to just fight," Ryan says, knowing that those who spent time in the hole never came out quite the same.

"What would happen when a kid lost a fight?" Sandy asks.

"Usually they were denied some meals and privileges for a week; no phone calls, couldn't watch TV... that sort of thing." Ryan lowers his head then quietly adds, "Except for Stankey."

Sandy leans forward on the couch, resting his arms on his legs as he clasps his hands together. He listens intently, making sure he doesn't miss a word the boy says.

"I won all my matches for him," Ryan says as his voice begins to quiver. "Except my last one."

"What happened?" Sandy asks, leaning in slightly closer.

"He took me into a back room... he was..." Ryan swallows the hard lump in his throat. "He was so angry. Since I had won all of my previous matches, he had placed a very large bet." Ryan lets out a long, plaintive sigh. "And I lost."

"That wasn't your fault," Sandy says.

"I gave up... I couldn't... couldn't take it anymore..."

"Ryan, it wasn't your fault," Sandy reiterates, hoping his words get through to the boy.

Ryan stares down at his lap and pauses a moment, trying to keep his emotions in check.

"The back room... there were these u-bolts em... embedded up high on the cement wall. And leather ss... straps," Ryan stutters, recalling the unsettling memory. "Stankey had me face the wall. He placed the leather straps around my wrists..."

Ryan grasps his wrist with his hand as he recalls the leather digging into his flesh, chafing his skin raw.

"Then he removed his belt."

Ryan recoils slightly, remembering Stankey's taunting laughter as he ripped his leather belt through the belt loops. And then came the punishment... the jarring pain of being whipped... over and over and over...

Ryan remembers never letting out a sound. As he took each lashing, he gritted his teeth in defiance, making sure not to give his tormentor any pleasure as he inflicted pain on him. After all, he had already suffered at the hands of his father.

"He gave me ten lashings, the same as the count," Ryan says. "He told me if I ever lost again..."

Sandy places his hand over his mouth and blinks back his tears, wishing he could erase every horrible, unjust thing that has happened to the boy.

"He told me I could never lose again," Ryan says quietly as he folds his arms tightly in front of his chest in an effort to comfort himself.

"Why didn't you say something? Report them," Sandy says, finding himself desperately wanting to "right the wrong".

"They threatened us. Anyone who talked... they threatened to..." Ryan takes in a deep breath and fights back his tears. "It wouldn't have mattered. No one would've believed us."

Ryan tightens his arms around himself even more as he adamantly struggles to console himself; trying desperately to hold everything in even as everything desperately wants to get out.

"My mom was released from rehab and I finally got to go home. I was so happy to get out of that place," Ryan says, keeping his head lowered. "I got home and... my mom..." Ryan sighs and smiles a painful smile as if being told a very bad joke. "She stayed sober for one and a half days."

"Ryan, I'm so sorry..."

"And then... then AJ moved in," Ryan says, shaking his head in disbelief. "My m...m...mom let AJ move in with us."

Sandy kneels in front of Ryan and places his hands on the arms of the chair, wanting to be closer while still giving the boy his space.

Ryan tries to fight back his tears as he feels his strength quickly wane. "She let that jerk move in..."

Ryan leans forward and rests his forehead upon Sandy's shoulder.

"How could she do that? Why did she let him move in with us?"

"I don't have an answer to that," Sandy says with a heavy heart.

Sandy takes in a deep breath and fights back his own tears. He gently places his hand on the back of Ryan's head and his other hand on the middle of the boy's back.

"How could she let him..."

"Ryan, please know that Kirsten and I will never hurt you," Sandy whispers reassuringly.

Sandy holds Ryan in his arms and finally feels the boy begin to relax, most likely due to utter exhaustion.

"I'm so tired..."

Sandy gently rubs the back of Ryan's weary head and again tries to reassure the boy.

"We will never hurt you," Sandy says soothingly. "In this home, Ryan... you are safe."


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.

 **A/N:** This story is  AU and begins after Luke carries Ryan out of the burning building.

 **I live in Minnesota and have been following a case in which four high school football players brutally beat their teammate last October. The victim was sixteen. One of the players, now eighteen, pleaded guilty to felony assault. This was his sentence: 40 hours of community service and probation until he turns 19. He must pay restitution and also write a letter of apology to the victim. One of the other four was sentenced to 15 days in jail. The last two cases are still pending.**

 **Guess I was a bit hard on Luke and his buddies. Sometimes I just don't understand the criminal justice system.**

 **I've noticed that some readers believe it's only been a couple of days since Ryan was injured at the model home. That happened on a Friday night, he was released from the hospital on Saturday and now, in this chapter, it's the start of Wednesday. Of course he's still hurting physically, but I just wanted to set the timeline straight because I feel there may be some confusion.**

 **Thank you for all the feedback and support. I really appreciate it!**

Chapter Thirteen

"Honey, is everything alright?" Kirsten asks as she peeks her head inside Sandy's office.

Sandy immediately jumps up from the leather recliner and scampers over to the door. He places his index finder over his lips to signal his wife to whisper.

"Everything's fine," Sandy says in a hushed voice.

"It's almost two in the morning," Kirsten whispers. "I got worried when I woke up and you weren't in bed."

Kirsten glances inside the office and sees Ryan sleeping soundly on the couch.

"Sandy, what happened?"

"Ryan had some things he needed to talk about," Sandy explains, nudging his wife out into the hallway so to not disturb the boy.

"And I take it you can't tell me what you talked about," Kirsten says.

"I'm sorry, honey," Sandy apologizes. "I can't break his confidence."

Kirsten smiles with understanding. She has always admired her husband's moral principles. In fact, she knows he aced his "ethics" course in law school.

"Well, the important thing is that he's talking," Kirsten says quietly. "He's opening up."

"Ryan started to nod off and I knew I couldn't carry him up the stairs, so I let him fall asleep on the couch," Sandy explains. "Do you think you could get us a couple of blankets? I really don't want to leave him alone."

"Of course," Kirsten says with a warm smile. "And I'll grab you an extra pillow."

"Thanks," Sandy says, giving his wife a kiss of appreciation before making his way back to Ryan.

Kirsten returns and hands her husband a blanket and pillow. She then carefully places the other blanket over Ryan.

"He's dreaming," Kirsten whispers.

"Really? How can you tell?"

"His eyes are moving back and forth," Kirsten explains in a hushed voice. "Rapid eye movement."

Kirsten gently pushes the bangs off Ryan's forehead. "I wonder if there's any chance he could be having a good dream."

Sandy sighs and places his hand on Kirsten's back as both parents gaze down at the sleeping boy.

"The best thing we can hope for is that someday Ryan will have good dreams," Sandy whispers.

"We can help him with that," Kirsten says, determined to protect the boy from further harm.

Sandy places a kiss on top of his wife's head. "Yes we can."

"Let me know if you need anything else," Kirsten says as she quietly makes her way out of her husband's home office.

"I will," Sandy replies.

Kirsten carefully makes her way back to her bedroom using the moonlight to guide her way.

"Mom? Is everything alright?"

Kirsten immediately stops in her tracks when she hears her son's voice. "Seth, what are you doing up this late?"

"I had to go to the bathroom and I saw Ryan's bedroom door was open," Seth explains, shuffling over to his mother while trying to stifle a yawn. "I looked inside his room and he wasn't there. His bed hadn't even been slept in."

"It's alright..."

"I thought... maybe... well, did he try to run away again?" Seth asks with deep concern.

"No sweetheart," Kirsten assures, trying to allay her son's fear. "Ryan is with your father. He was having some difficulty sleeping."

"Trouble sleeping?"

"Seth, your father and I are trying to help Ryan through a very difficult time," Kirsten says, hoping her son will accept her explanation. "And tonight, Ryan needed your father."

"Oh, I understand... I think," Seth says quietly. "Maybe the doctor could give him something for the pain."

"I don't think it was physical pain that was keeping Ryan from sleeping," Kirsten says. "Seth, you need to be patient and understanding. Your father and I have Ryan's best interests at heart. We will help him through this."

"Okay," Seth says, making his way back up the stairs. "Good night, Mom."

"'Night, sweetheart," Kirsten says, watching her son slowly walk away with his feet dragging and shoulders slumped.

 _He's worried about Ryan,_ Kirsten thinks to herself as she makes her way back to her bedroom. _We all are..._

* * *

Sandy pulls his leather recliner over so it's situated right next to the couch. He adjusts the blanket over the sleeping boy then gets himself comfortable in the chair, placing the pillow behind his head and draping himself with the extra blanket. Suddenly, Sandy hears a faint whimper. He glances over at Ryan and notices the boy struggling through a bad dream.

"It's alright, Ryan," Sandy whispers, sitting up again. He places his hand gently on the boy's shoulder. "You're safe."

Sandy feels the tension in the boy's muscles and listens to his distressed breathing.

"No one's going to hurt you, Ryan." Sandy leans in and whispers softly to the boy, "I'm right here with you. You're safe, now."

A few moments pass and Sandy finally senses the boy beginning to relax; the tension in his muscles subsiding as his breathing becomes more even and calm.

Sandy lays back down in his leather recliner and covers himself up again with the blanket. He places his hand on Ryan's forearm and closes his eyes.

"You're safe here with me," Sandy whispers as he begins to drift off to sleep. Sandy keeps his hand on the boy's forearm, not wanting to let go.

 _I won't let anyone hurt you again..._

* * *

"Hey, Donna... it's me."

 _"Dawn?"_

"Yeah..."

 _"Do you know what time it is?"_

"Yeah..."

 _"It's six o'clock in the morning!"_

"What the fuck is your problem!" Dawn snaps in defense. "You gotta get up soon, workin' the breakfast shift and all."

 _"I'm workin' the lunch shift today."_

"Oh, well... didn't know that... sorry."

" _Where in the world are you?"_

"I'm at the bus station in Barstow," Dawn replies. "I had a bit of bad luck in Vegas so I'm waitin' for the next bus back to Chino."

 _"Why are you callin' me, Dawn?"_

"I need to find AJ. Do you know where he is?" Dawn asks.

 _"AJ? Are you serious?"_

"Yeah, I need to find him."

 _"He ain't gonna be happy to see you."_

"I can handle him," Dawn states with feigned confidence. "Do you know where he is?"

 _"Last I heard, he got himself a place on South 3rd Street."_

"Ooh, 3rd Street... nice neighborhood," Dawn says with sarcasm dripping from her voice.

 _"I forget the name of the apartment complex."_

"I'll find it," Dawn says, knowing exactly where to look. "Thanks, Donna."

* * *

The bright morning sun shines through the slats of the wooden blinds, promising another hot summer day. Ryan opens his eyes and blinks a few times, trying to get his bearings. He turns his head and sees Sandy sleeping soundly in the leather recliner, then peers down at the man's hand firmly placed on his forearm. Ryan carefully frees his arm and rubs his sore eyes, still swollen and red from the tears he shed just a few hours ago.

"Hey, you're awake," Sandy says, stretching a bit as he yawns.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's alright. There's no need to be sorry," Sandy says, standing up to move the chair away from the couch.

Ryan gingerly sits up and runs his gauze-covered hand over his face. He knows he must look like a complete mess with his bloodshot eyes, bruised face and unflattering bedhead.

"I'm sorry about last night," Ryan says quietly, running his hand through his hair in the attempt to make himself look a little more presentable. "I didn't mean to burden you..."

Sandy immediately kneels down in front of Ryan and takes the boy's hands into his.

"You were not a burden last night and you will never be a burden," Sandy states emphatically.

Ryan offers up a small smile, appreciating the man's comforting words.

"Did it help you at all to talk last night?" Sandy asks. "You know, instead of keeping everything bottled up inside?"

Ryan lowers his head and thinks for a moment. He seems to remember having a disturbing dream and yet, he feels a huge weight lifted off his shoulders. Ryan looks up at Sandy and replies earnestly, "Yeah, it did help to talk."

"Good," Sandy says with a reassuring smile. "You can talk to me about anything at any time. I have an open door policy."

"Okay."

Ryan suddenly hears his stomach growl.

"Are you hungry?" Sandy asks, knowing the kid barely ate anything for dinner last evening.

"I'm starving," Ryan replies.

"So am I," Sandy says standing back up before helping the boy up off the couch. "Let's have some breakfast.

Sandy places his arm around Ryan's shoulder as they walk to the kitchen. He's immediately relieved when the boy doesn't recoil from the physical contact, something he had done just yesterday when they left the prison.

"Good morning!" Kirsten greets with a bright smile as she walks briskly into the kitchen.

"Good morning, sweetheart," Sandy says, giving his wife a loving hug. "Where's Seth?"

"He's getting an early start cleaning the pool," Kirsten says, returning her husband's hug. "It's going to be another hot day so I told him he could go swimming later."

Ryan smiles as he observes the genuine affection shared between Sandy and Kirsten. He doesn't ever recall his parents being loving. All he can remember is screaming and fighting.

"Where are you off to?" Sandy asks, noticing his wife grabbing her car keys.

"I have some errands to run," Kirsten replies. "I got a call from the dry cleaners. Ryan's leather jacket is ready to be picked up."

"Kirsten, what can I do to help pay for..."

Kirsten holds her hand up to stop Ryan from saying anything further.

"You don't have to do anything, Ryan," Kirsten says, placing her hand upon the boy's shoulder. "You're a part of this family now. You don't have to pay for your dry cleaning."

"But..."

"No buts," Kirsten interrupts. "I'm happy your jacket could be cleaned and mended. When you were in the hospital, you told us it was a birthday gift from your brother. I know it means a lot to you."

Ryan smiles, again appreciating everything the Cohens are doing for him.

"I'm also going to make a stop at the grocery store," Kirsten continues. "Is there anything special you'd like me to pick up for you, Ryan?"

Ryan is rendered speechless. He's not sure what he could possibly need. There's already so much food in the house.

"I was wondering if you have a favorite brand of cereal. I'm afraid Seth finished up the Cap'n Crunch this morning," Kirsten says. "I already know what kind of bagels you like, but not cereal."

Ryan looks at Sandy, then at Kirsten. He looks back over at Sandy and notices the man grinning from ear to ear.

"Umm... whatever you usually get for Seth is fine with me."

"All right, I've got my cell phone with me," Kirsten says, realizing it will take some time before the boy is comfortable asking for things. "Ryan, if you think of anything, just give me a call."

Ryan watches Kirsten leave the kitchen, then takes a seat at the breakfast bar.

"Well, it appears that we're out of bagels and cereal," Sandy says, looking through the cupboards. "How about I make us some eggs and toast."

"That sounds wonderful," Ryan says. "What can I do to help?"

"Well, for starters, you can tell me how you like your eggs," Sandy says as he retrieves everything he needs from the refrigerator.

"Umm... it doesn't matter... however you like to make them..."

Sandy places two skillets on the stovetop then turns his attention to Ryan.

"One thing I know is, when it comes to eggs, everyone has a personal preference on how they're prepared," Sandy says. "Take Seth, for example. He'll only eat scrambled eggs. I, on the other hand, like my eggs sunny side up."

Sandy turns on the burners to preheat the skillets, then places two slices of bread in the toaster.

"So, how would you like your eggs, Ryan?" Sandy asks, trying to gently coax the boy into making a simple request. "I'm a master chef when it comes to eggs."

"Actually, I umm... I like my eggs over easy."

"That's how Kirsten likes her eggs," Sandy says with a smile as he gently taps the eggs on the granite countertop and cracks them open into the hot skillets. "Looks like you two have something in common."

Ryan smiles as he watches Sandy make breakfast.

"I think the toast is almost done," Sandy says, carefully flipping over Ryan's eggs. "Why don't you get out some jam or butter."

Ryan opens the refrigerator and sees an array of different jams and jellies.

"There's a lot to choose from," Ryan says, not really wanting to take them all out when it's just the two of them eating.

"Take out whatever you want."

"I like strawberry jam," Ryan says, grabbing the jar and placing it on the breakfast bar.

"I like that too," Sandy says, sliding the finished eggs onto plates along with the toast. "Looks like we also have something in common."

Sandy sets the plates on the breakfast bar, pours himself a cup of coffee and sits down next to Ryan.

"These eggs are delicious," Ryan says, scarfing down the food. He'll take this breakfast over dry cereal any day.

"I'm glad you like it," Sandy says, watching the boy practically inhale the food. "Ryan, I need to talk to you about tomorrow."

"What about tomorrow?" Ryan asks while taking a bite of his toast.

"I'm going to be in court most of the day," Sandy says. "It's a case I've been working on for almost a year. But Kirsten will be home..."

"I don't need a babysitter," Ryan interrupts.

"Oh, I know you don't need a babysitter," Sandy acknowledges. "Although, I'm not quite sure about Seth."

Sandy takes a welcome sip of the hot, strong coffee and continues, "Kirsten and I both feel that one of us needs to be home with you, at least until next week."

Ryan takes another bite of his toast. He's not used to people taking care of him. He's always taken care of himself, even when he was sick.

"Kirsten and Seth already know this, but if you need to get ahold of me, the number to the courthouse is next to the phone," Sandy says pointing over to the kitchen phone. "Cell phones aren't allowed in the courtroom, but you can call that number and the person will deliver the message to me. I can then ask the judge for a short recess so I can return your call."

"What is the court case about?" Ryan asks, finishing up his eggs and toast.

"My client, a teenager, did a very bad thing," Sandy says as he stands up from the breakfast bar and starts clearing the dishes.

"What did he do?" Ryan asks, lending Sandy a hand with clearing the breakfast bar.

"He killed his grandmother," Sandy replies.

"And you're defending him?"

"It's complicated," Sandy says as he loads the dishwasher. "The kid has struggled for years with mental health issues. He's finally been diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder."

"What is that?" Ryan asks.

"It's a condition that includes schizophrenia and a mood disorder," Sandy explains. "And in this case, he's also bipolar."

Sandy leans against the kitchen counter and folds his arms across his chest. "Tomorrow's hearing is about sentencing and where my client will serve his sentence."

"I don't understand."

"The kid doesn't belong in prison. He belongs in a psychiatric hospital where he'll get proper treatment," Sandy says. "The psychiatrists I have lined up to testify tomorrow will hopefully convince the judge of this."

"He should get help," Ryan says, suddenly feeling a pang of guilt.

Sandy notices a sudden change in Ryan's demeanor. "Is everything alright?" Sandy asks.

"Yeah... umm... I think I'll take a quick shower, if that's okay."

"Of course it's okay," Sandy says, somewhat puzzled.

 _Something I said struck a nerve,_ Sandy thinks to himself. _I'll give him some space. Hopefully, he'll talk to me about it later._

* * *

Dawn walks up to the front door of the Gardenview Apartments on Third Street. She has no idea why the complex is called "Gardenview". The street in front is lined with water-starved palm trees while the back boasts an alley strewn with garbage cans and other discarded debris.

 _Gardenview, my ass..._

Dawn peruses the names next to their corresponding room numbers. She moves her finger to press the buzzer next to AJ's name but then quickly stops when someone opens the door. She grabs the door before it closes and slips inside, thankful she didn't have to alert AJ. She would much rather surprise him.

Dawn walks down the hallway and wrinkles her nose at the array of foul smells assaulting her senses. She finally arrives at unit 108 and knocks on the door.

"Yeah, yeah... comin'!" AJ opens the door and immediately scowls. "Well, well, look at what the cat dragged in."

"Shut up, AJ," Dawn snarls as she pushes her way past the unkempt man and enters the small apartment.

"Well, aren't we in a good mood..."

"Wow, nice place ya got here," Dawn says sarcastically as she takes in the surroundings.

"Hey, it may not be much, but it's home."

AJ follows Dawn as she walks into the tiny kitchen. She looks down and notices a trail of brown, rice-shaped droppings on the drab, beige linoleum floor.

"Hey, ya got mice!"

"Yeah, I also got cockroaches," AJ says, crossing his beefy, tattooed arms across his ever-expanding beer belly. "They're my pets. I just haven't gotten around to namin' them yet."

Dawn opens the refrigerator, searching for something to drink. "Do ya got any beer?"

"Side door, bottom shelf," AJ says. "Dawn, why the hell are you here?"

"I need to borrow your car."

"You got a helluva lot of nerve askin' me for a favor," AJ spits out, grabbing a beer for himself.

"What's got you all pissy?" Dawn asks before taking a generous swig of the beer.

"I'll tell you what's got me all pissy. You!" AJ yells, pointing his finger at Dawn. "I spent the weekend in the slammer and when I posted bail Monday and went back to the house, you were gone!"

"Hey, it wasn't my fault you got arrested," Dawn says defensively. "Maybe you should stop gettin' into so many bar fights."

"I didn't start it, the other guy did," AJ states. "But, that's not the point. I go back to the house and it's empty. You're gone. Hell, you didn't even bother to leave me a note!"

"Oh please, don't be a wuss," Dawn says as she takes another swig of her beer. "Wait a minute... there wasn't a note?"

"No..."

"Nothin' on the counter?"

"Nothin'," AJ says. "Why?"

"No reason," Dawn lies, realizing her son must have returned home.

 _He found my note,_ Dawn thinks to herself. _It probably upset him. And when Ryan gets upset, he usually goes over to Theresa's..._

"So where the hell have you been, huh?" AJ asks, setting his beer down on a formica-top kitchen table. He takes out a pack of cigarettes and offers one to Dawn before lighting one up for himself.

"I went to Vegas."

"Vegas. Seriously?" AJ says, blowing smoke out of his nostrils. "I take it things didn't go well."

Dawn grumbles and takes a long drag from her cigarette. "So, can I borrow your car or not?"

"It's in the shop, but I'm supposed to get it back first thing in the morning," AJ replies. "Why the hell do you wanna borrow my car?"

"I need to find Ryan."

"Hah! Are you fuckin' kiddin' me?" AJ howls, coughing up some smoke from laughing so hard.

"I wanna apply for CalWORKS but they told me I either gotta be pregnant or have my kid livin' with me," Dawn explains. "And I sure as hell ain't gettin' pregnant."

"Thank God for that," AJ says sarcastically.

"Fuck you," Dawn snaps. "I don't see what's so funny."

"You're funny. Hell, this whole situation is funny," AJ says, taking a gulp of his beer. "Just last week you had me throw that kid's sorry ass out onto the street. You skip town then show back up here looking for him all because you wanna go on welfare? Jesus, you're priceless!"

Dawn scowls at the man standing before her. She wants so desperately to throw the rest of her beer into his face, but decides against it. She wouldn't want to waste perfectly good booze on such a pathetic loser.

"AJ, I need to find Ryan and when I do, I thought... well maybe we could stay with you for a few days," Dawn says, easing up a bit on her acerbic tone of voice. "At least until I'm able to get my own place."

"And where the hell is the kid supposed to sleep, huh?" AJ asks. "Look around, Dawn. I got a one bedroom apartment."

"Ry can sleep on the couch," Dawn quickly retorts. "I mean, that kid can sleep anywhere. I remember finding him sleepin' on the floor in his bedroom closet when he was little."

"And you never thought why?" AJ asks, intrigued by woman's lack of awareness. "Most little kids avoid their closets. Ya know, monsters and all."

"AJ, I can't ride the bus around town all day," Dawn states, choosing to ignore the man's last comment. "Can I borrow your car or not?"

"Yeah, I'll lend you my car," AJ states, taking one last gulp of his beer while snubbing out his cigarette. "But it'll cost ya."

"Fine," Dawn says in a bored tone of voice as she makes her way towards the bedroom. "But make it fast."

 _I've had a really long day..._

* * *

"Hey Ryan, I got this game on my Playstation that I think you might enjoy," Seth says, helping his friend clean the dishes from dinner.

Dinner clean-up was supposed to be his chore but when Ryan offered to help, he just couldn't say "no".

"What is it?" Ryan asks, hoping it's not some fighting game. He's had enough fighting for awhile.

"It's 'Tiger Woods PGA Tour'. It's actually quite fun and you can take your time. It's got like fifty different scenarios to choose from..."

"Seth, I don't know how to play golf," Ryan says, folding the kitchen towel and laying it neatly on the counter. "I mean, I've never even held a golf club..."

"Well, you really don't have to know how to play golf to play this game, but there is a tutorial," Seth interrupts. "And besides, you never know... there may come a time when you may need to learn how to golf."

"Seriously? I don't know when I would ever need to learn..."

"Not the point, Ryan," Seth again interrupts. "This game is very laid back. There's not a lot of repetitive clicking and moving... and did I mention you can take your time? I mean it's golf."

Ryan smiles. He knows he should give the game a try. Besides, when was the last time there was actual fighting at a golf match.

"Okay, but I need to talk to your dad about something first," Ryan says.

"Hey, he's your dad too," Seth states, hoping his friend will eventually feel comfortable enough to see them all as his "family".

Ryan again smiles, appreciating the sentiment.

"I tell you what, while you go and talk to 'our' dad, I'll make us a couple of Arnold Palmers."

"Arnold Palmers?" Ryan inquires.

"Iced tea and lemonade. I'll make it decaf since it's getting late," Seth replies, happy his friend is willing to give the game a try.

"That sounds good, Seth," Ryan says.

"I'll be in the family room when you're ready for some fun and relaxation."

Ryan walks to Sandy's home office and stops outside the open door. He notices Sandy talking on his phone and begins to walk away.

"Ryan, come in!" Sandy says, gesturing the boy with his hand to enter. "I'm almost done."

Ryan reluctantly walks into the office and shuts the door. He wishes he just went to play simulated golf instead of interrupting Sandy's work.

"That sounds great," Sandy says to one of his witnesses. "I'll see you in court tomorrow morning at ten sharp."

Sandy ends his call and places his case folders in his brief case.

"Now, what's on your mind?" Sandy asks Ryan, happy the kid has approached him to talk again.

Ryan sits down in the chair across from Sandy and looks down at his lap. He lets out a long sigh, then looks back up at Sandy.

"I lied."

Sandy is taken aback slightly at the boy's disclosure. He and Kirsten have never tolerated lying, having caught Seth a handful of times spouting doozies just over the past year. But he decides to hear Ryan out and not get upset.

 _The kid must've had a good reason..._

"You lied?" Sandy asks gently, wanting the boy to elaborate as he folds his hands atop his desk.

"I lied... umm... I lied to Kirsten."

Sandy sits back in his chair and observes the solemn boy. He knows there has to be more to this confession and quickly decides to tackle it head-on.

"All right, you lied to Kirsten," Sandy states calmly. "What about?"

"When we were in the kitchen Sunday, I was reading... umm... the newspaper article..."

"About the group home," Sandy says, helping the boy along.

"She asked me..." Ryan sighs again and lowers his head. "Kirsten asked me if I knew the kid..."

"The boy who committed suicide?" Sandy asks, making the logical assumption.

"Yeah."

Sandy runs his hand over his face, wondering if he should remain silent or pry a little more.

"Was he your friend?" Sandy asks, deciding not to keep quiet. If Ryan has lost a friend, especially to suicide, then he needs to know.

"His name was Tyler and no, we weren't friends... well, not good friends. I just knew him." Ryan shrinks back into the chair and holds his head down. "I'm sorry I lied but I just didn't want to talk about it."

"It's alright, Ryan," Sandy says, trying his best to reassure the distraught boy.

"Tyler told me the day I went home that he was depressed. He told me he was bipolar," Ryan says, recalling his conversation earlier with Sandy while they ate breakfast.

"Was he on any medication?" Sandy asks.

"Yeah, but..."

"But what?" Sandy asks, noticing the boy trying to shrink further into the chair.

"Stankey... he umm..." Ryan hesitates a moment, then runs his hand through his hair. "Tyler told me Stankey kept his meds from him."

"Wait a minute," Sandy states, sitting up straight in his desk chair. "Did I hear you right? Stankey kept that boy's medication from him?"

"Yeah, but I don't know why," Ryan says. "I just think Stankey's a sadist, you know... gets his kicks out of watching other people suffer."

"This changes everything," Sandy says.

"What do you mean?"

"What I know so far is Stankey and the other men running the group home are being charged with 'malicious punishment of a child'. That's a gross misdemeanor," Sandy says. "They'll most likely plea down and get probation. They may see some prison time, possibly up to a year, and that's only if the judge is in a bad mood."

"That doesn't sound like much punishment," Ryan says.

"But what you've just told me? Keeping medication from a boy suffering from bipolar disorder and then that boy commits suicide? That's 'depraved indifference'. That's a felony."

Sandy leans in over his desk towards Ryan, folds his hands together and looks intently at the boy.

"Ryan, would you be willing to give a written statement?" Sandy asks. "With this new information, the D.A. would be able to get a search warrant to open Tyler's medical files. If he indeed had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder and was placed on medication, then they'll be able to get a court order for an autopsy. If Tyler was taking his meds, an autopsy will show trace amounts."

"And if the autopsy can't detect any meds, then it will prove Stankey is guilty," Ryan says.

"That's right," Sandy acknowledges. "Do you know if Tyler told anyone else about this?"

"I think he was friends with someone named Eric," Ryan replies. "There were other kids there much longer than me who may have also known."

"That's good," Sandy says. "The D.A. will want corroboration."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Ryan says with a heavy heart as he lowers his head. "I should have said something."

"Ryan, it wasn't your fault," Sandy states firmly. He knows the kid is going to beat himself up over this, even though it was something completely out of his control.

"I was going home. I was so anxious to get out of that place," Ryan says, clenching his left fist as tight as he can, hoping it will put a halt to the stinging tears welling up in his eyes. "I should have reported it to someone..."

"Tyler was not your responsibility," Sandy states calmly. "The people running that group home were responsible for him. The social workers who were supposed to be checking in on you boys were responsible for him. Bob Stankey was responsible..."

"I want him to pay for what he did to Tyler," Ryan interrupts.

 _I want him to pay for what he did to me..._

"Oh, he will pay," Sandy states as he stands up and walks around his desk. Sandy kneels down in front of Ryan and takes the boy's tightly clenched fist into his hands. "I will make sure that man gets punished, not just for what he did to Tyler, but for what he did to you and the other boys."

Ryan slowly begins to unclench his fist in Sandy's warm hands. He blinks away an errant tear and sighs. "You have enough to do... I don't want to be a burden..."

"Look at me, Ryan."

Ryan glances up at Sandy and sees deep blue eyes full of warmth and understanding.

"What did I tell you just this morning?" Sandy asks gently.

Ryan lowers his head and bites his lip. He then looks back up at Sandy and replies, "You told me I wasn't being a burden last night...

"And?" Sandy asks, coaxing the boy to say more.

"And I... I will never be a burden," Ryan says softly, wanting desperately to believe those words.

"That's right. And do you know why?" Sandy asks.

Ryan looks at Sandy. He doesn't know the answer to that question.

"Because we're a family and families stick together. We help each other. We love each other unconditionally," Sandy states warmly. "And no one, I mean no one in this family will ever be a burden."

"But, I'm not your..."

"You're a part of this family now, Ryan," Sandy interrupts. "And we're here for you. Me, Kirsten and Seth... we're here for you."

Ryan listens intently to Sandy's comforting words. He sees a man ready and willing to do whatever it takes to help him through this difficult time.

 _Does he really believe I'm worth it?_

"I know it will take time before you feel like you're a part of our family," Sandy says as he stands back up.

Ryan notices Sandy offer his hand to help him out of the chair. He takes the man's hand, appreciating the assistance.

"But I promise you, we'll be patient," Sandy says as he places his arm around Ryan's shoulders. "All we ask is that you give us a chance. Can you do that?"

Ryan smiles. He's already feeling so much better. "Yes, I can do that."

"Good. I'm glad to hear that," Sandy says, gently squeezing the boy's shoulder.

"Thank you for listening... for helping me."

"You're very welcome," Sandy says as he walks with Ryan out of his office. "But do you want to know something?"

Ryan looks over at Sandy, curious as to what he wants to add.

Sandy smiles and whispers in the boy's ear, "I happen to believe you're worth it."


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.

 **A/N:** This story is  AU and begins after Luke carries Ryan out of the burning building.

 **This chapter was getting a wee bit long, and with the holidays in full force and not having a lot of time to write, I decided to break the chapter up into two smaller chapters. Otherwise, I was afraid I wouldn't get anything new posted until next year! ;-)**

 **Thank you for all the feedback and support. I really appreciate it!**

Chapter Fourteen

Dawn stands on the sidewalk in front of the Diaz's home. It's only ten thirty on a Thursday morning and already her makeup is starting to melt in the summer heat. She notes the well-trimmed shrubbery in front of a freshly painted porch. Clay pots filled with multi-colored zinnias adorn the steps leading up to a door with a welcome mat saying " _When You're Here, You're Family_ ". The grass, although a bit patchy, has been mown and recently watered.

Dawn glances over at the house next-door; the house that used to be hers. The paint-chipped siding and broken shudders work as a backdrop for the overgrown shrubs and weed-filled patches of dirt that used to be called a lawn.

Dawn looks back over at the Diaz's home and curls her upper lip as she snarls to herself.

 _I really never liked my neighbors. Eva stickin' her nose into my business, always caring about my kid..._

Dawn shakes her head at the thought. Eva Diaz concerned about her youngest son. She never understood why.

 _Ryan could always take care of himself..._

Dawn glances around for Ryan's bike. She remembers her son riding off on his bike when AJ threw him out of the house. Dawn walks around to the Diaz's backyard. If Ryan is here then his bike should be also.

"Mrs. Atwood?"

Dawn spins around, taken off-guard by someone calling out to her. She scowls when she realizes it's just Arturo, Eva's devoted son and friend of Trey. After doing a short stint in prison, Arturo has stayed out of trouble and moved back home to look after his mother and younger sister.

 _Trey would never do that. He can't stand the sight of me..._

"So, when did they let you outta prison?" Dawn asks with a snarky tone of voice as she walks up to the back door that leads into the kitchen.

Arturo rolls his eyes and decides to ignore the question. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm lookin' for Ryan," Dawn says, shoving her way past the young man to enter the house.

Dawn glances around the small but tidy kitchen. She suddenly spots a picture on the refrigerator; a picture of Ryan and Theresa.

"What's this? Why is Ryan dressed up like a dog?"

"Snoopy," Arturo corrects. "Ryan is dressed up like Snoopy, you know, from Charlie Brown?"

"When did that happen?" Dawn asks, becoming a bit agitated.

"I think they were in seventh grade," Arturo explains, not that surprised the woman doesn't remember. "They were in a play. Ryan was Snoopy and Theresa was Peppermint Patty."

"Oh, must've missed it..."

Dawn turns around and sees the kitchen table neatly set with green and yellow checkered place mats. A mason jar filled with freshly-cut flowers act as a quaint centerpiece. A pang of jealousy hits her as she wonders how often her son sat at the table with Eva serving him a hot, homemade meal.

"Ryan... is he here?" Dawn asks again.

"El no esta aqui," Arturo replies.

Dawn lets out a frustrating huff. She doesn't understand Spanish. She knows Ryan understands some... the basics...

 _Probably from spendin' so much fuckin' time here..._

"English?" Dawn questions, even though it comes off as more of a demand.

"He's not here," Arturo replies with a sly smile, enjoying getting on the woman's nerves a bit. He's heard all the horror stories from Trey and seen the brunt of them first hand with Ryan. He doesn't like the woman and he's not going to pretend that he does like her.

"Well, do you know where his is?" Dawn asks, losing what little patience she has left.

"Last I heard, Ryan's living with his lawyer."

"His lawyer?"

"Yeah, you know, attorney... public defender..."

"Don't be a smart ass," Dawn spits out. "I know what a lawyer is."

Dawn racks her brain, thinking back to when she picked Ryan up at juvie. His lawyer introduced himself. A good-looking man with a big smile and even bigger eyebrows.

 _"Hi, I'm Sandy Cohen... Ryan's lawyer..."_

She remembers she disliked the man immediately.

"This lawyer, does he got an address?"

"All I know is that he's living in Newport Beach," Arturo replies.

"Newport Beach? My kid is livin' in fuckin' Newport Beach?" Dawn questions, wondering how in the world her son managed to worm his way into such a nice, upscale community.

"You should be happy for the muchacho," Arturo states, again not surprised by the woman's reaction. "At least he's someplace safe."

"Where the hell is Theresa?" Dawn asks, figuring she'll get more information from the girl.

"She's in Newport looking for summer work," Arturo replies, looking at the clock. He needs to go to work himself.

"Why in the world is she lookin' for a job in Newport?" Dawn asks, trying not to sound irritated but failing miserably.

"Well, for one thing, money. She can make triple working at all those fundraisers and fancy parties those rich people throw than she could working at some fast food joint here in Chino," Arturo explains. "And besides, she wants to be near Ryan. If she gets work in Newport, then she can see him as often as she wants."

"Hmmph... your sister always did have the 'hots' for my son," Dawn quips.

"Listen, that's all I know. I really need to get to work," Arturo says, hoping the woman will leave quietly. "You know, work. Something people do..."

"Yeah, yeah..." Dawn interrupts, being able to take the hint. Dawn steps outside and begins heading towards AJ's car. She looks at her watch and sees it's getting close to noon. She gets into the car and pulls away, looking for the first bar she can find.

 _I need a drink,_ Dawn thinks to herself. _It's five o'clock somewhere..._

* * *

"You missed a spot," Kirsten says, lowering her sunglasses.

"What? Huh? Where?" Seth asks, looking around frantically for the spot he missed cleaning.

"Over there, on the right side corner," Ryan says, pointing at the spot from where he's sitting in his lounge chair.

Seth looks and looks, squinting his eyes, then he sees it. "Hey... you're right."

Ryan watches his friend clean the windows on the pool house and sighs. Here he is sitting poolside in a chaise lounger drinking an ice cold lemonade and reading a book. He feels he should be helping.

"How are you doing on your book?" Kirsten asks, noticing Ryan holding his open book against his lap.

"I'm almost done," Ryan replies, picking his book back up to read. "Just a couple of more chapters."

"Well, when you're done with that book, Sandy has many more," Kirsten says with a smile, happy Ryan has an interest in reading. She's never been able to get Seth to read anything meaningful. Her son reads comic books. She tries to understand, but deep down, she wishes he would read actual books.

"Okay, how's that?" Seth asks.

"Better," Kirsten replies. "You're halfway done."

Kirsten hears a loud, disgruntled sigh from her son but she refuses to give in. She then glances over at Ryan and notices the boy's head lowered with a solemn expression gracing his bruised face.

"Ryan, what is it?" Kirsten asks.

"Umm... it's just..."

"It's just what?" Kirsten prods.

"It's just... I feel bad Seth's having to do all these chores," Ryan explains. "He was only trying to help me."

"I know," Kirsten says with understanding. "And Sandy and I aren't upset with Seth for trying to help you."

"Then why is he grounded?" Ryan asks.

Kirsten thinks for a moment, then turns her full attention towards Ryan. "When Sandy and I discovered you were gone, we became worried. We didn't know where you were," Kirsten explains.

Ryan feels a sudden twinge of guilt. He never thought in a million years anyone would worry about him, especially people he had just met.

"We called the police, but because they felt you ran away, they wouldn't issue an AMBER Alert," Kirsten continues. "But they did put additional squad cars out on the road and some extra officers to keep an eye out for you. They promised they would ask around but hours passed by and still we heard nothing. Sandy and I became more and more worried. We asked ourselves, how could a teenage boy just disappear?"

Kirsten looks over at her son diligently washing the pool house windows and shakes her head. "The police spent time and resources looking for you. Sandy and I were worried, not knowing where you were or if you were safe, and that entire time Seth knew. He knew where you were and he said nothing."

"He should have told you," Ryan says quietly. "I'm sorry."

"You're not the one who needs to be sorry," Kirsten states. "Seth tends to act before thinking things through. He's also gotten into the bad habit of lying. Seth is grounded so he'll spend this time thinking about what he could have done differently to help you."

Ryan sighs and thinks of all the conversations he's had this past week with Sandy; how understanding and patient the man has been. He never thought anyone would be interested in how he was feeling, let alone what misfortunes he's suffered in the past.

"I should have told Sandy about the group home. It's why I ran away."

"We know," Kirsten says in a gentle tone of voice. "Sandy and I had no idea what a terrible place that was. Had we known... well, please believe me, we would have never sent you there. We hope you feel safe here, Ryan." Kirsten leans over towards Ryan and places her hand on his forearm. "Sandy, Seth and I... we want you to know that our home is your home."

Ryan looks over at Kirsten and smiles, appreciating her words. He then realizes everything that has happened in the past week probably could have been avoided if he had just talked to Sandy.

Kirsten hears her cell phone ring and answers, "Hello?"

 _"Mrs. Cohen? It's Nick down at the front gate."_

"Yes, Nick, what can I do for you?"

 _"There's someone named Theresa here to see Ryan Atwood. She's not on the guest list..."_

"Hold on a minute," Kirsten says. "Ryan, Theresa is here to see you."

"Really? Theresa's here?" Ryan says, setting his book down on the table and sitting up straight in the lounge chair.

"Would you like me to tell Nick to send her over?" Kirsten asks.

"Sure, if it's... I mean, if it's alright with you."

"Of course it's alright," Kirsten replies, noticing the boy springing to life, the solemn look on his face now erased and replaced with hopeful anticipation.

 _He needs this,_ Kirsten thinks to herself. _Ryan needs to see a good friend._

"Yes, Nick, you can let Theresa in," Kirsten instructs.

 _"Will do."_

"Ryan, why don't you go and greet your friend," Kirsten says. "I'll come in to meet her in a little bit."

"Alright," Ryan says as he makes his way to the patio door. Ryan stops, turns around and offers a heartfelt smile to Kirsten. "Thank you."

Kirsten smiles back. She's so happy to see the boy smile.

 _I hope he'll smile more often now,_ Kirsten thinks to herself. _Seeing Theresa should help..._

Ryan walks towards the front door then decides to make a side trip to the bathroom to check himself in the mirror. He runs his hands through his hair, happy he took a shower earlier. He frowns at the bruising on his face but quickly shrugs it off.

 _Theresa's used to seeing me covered in bruises,_ Ryan tells himself. _This is nothing new._

Ryan hears the doorbell ring followed by a rapid knock. He walks briskly to the front door and opens it. Immediately, his smile of hopeful anticipation is wiped away and replaced with disappointment, dismay and confusion.

"Mom?"

"Hey, baby," Dawn says in her most loving tone of voice. "I'm back..."


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.

 **A/N:** This story is  AU and begins after Luke carries Ryan out of the burning building.

 **Yes, I agree with many readers in admitting that security (ahem, Nick) was a little lax. But I will address that in this chapter. :-)**

 **I always felt that the Cohen's would have lived in a gated community due to their home and neighborhood. With that said, I recall when Hailey arrived (uninvited, late at night and somehow was able to gain access to the pool house and don Ryan's t-shirt, etc.) and proceeded to throw a party on New Year's Eve. Wave after wave of people arrived, some she didn't even know. Then there was Eddie crashing Caleb's party. It all seemed a bit improbable in my mind that these people could just show up unannounced. But, that's just my opinion.**

 **This is my "Kirsten/Ryan" chapter, something I've been wanting to write for a very long time. It was supposed to be part of the last chapter, but I decided to divide it up. I'm actually happier with this being a separate chapter. I feel the two characters deserve this time together.**

 **For Sandyphiles, he will be returning next chapter. :-)**

 **Thank you for all the feedback and support. I really appreciate it!**

Chapter Fifteen

Ryan stands speechless in the threshold of the front doorway.

"Wow! That happy to see me, huh," Dawn quips.

"You left me," Ryan says as a jumbled web of emotions well up inside him. He's not sure if he feels angry or sad... maybe both, but he does know he's not happy.

"I just needed to get away for a bit... you know, regroup. I was in a bad place," Dawn explains. "I did leave you a note."

Ryan shakes his head, trying desperately to understand his mother's reasoning.

"What the hell happened to your face?"

Ryan places his hand over his bruised cheek, suddenly becoming self-conscious.

"Did your lawyer, Sandy what's-his-name, do that to you? 'Cuz no way was that from AJ," Dawn states defensively. "I watched you two fight. He didn't hit you that hard."

"Why are you here, Mom?" Ryan asks, deciding not to explain how he got his injuries. He knows she will just blame the Cohens. Her mind is set.

"I'm here to bring you home," Dawn says, softening her tone of voice. "I missed you baby..."

Ryan takes a step back into the front foyer and wraps his arms tightly across his chest. He lowers his head but then glances up at his mother with wary eyes.

"What the hell did you have to do to land a gig like this?" Dawn inquires as she takes a peek inside the foyer. "Did you have to do some personal favors for your lawyer or his wife... or maybe both? You can tell me, baby."

"It wasn't like that..."

"Get your stuff," Dawn orders. "We're goin' home."

"Ryan, would you like to introduce me to..." Kirsten immediately stops in her tracks when she sees an adult woman standing at the front door. "Who in the world are you?"

"I'm Ryan's mother," Dawn states as she checks the woman over.

 _Pretty,_ Dawn thinks to herself. _But a bit on the thin side. She could use a little meat on her bones._

"I appreciate you and your hubby takin' care of my kid and all, but it's time for us to go," Dawn states as she grabs Ryan's forearm and begins pulling him out the door.

"Hold on just one minute!" Kirsten says, grabbing Dawn's hand to pull it off of Ryan's arm. "Ryan's not going anywhere, especially with you!"

Dawn ignores Kirsten, determined to take her son back to Chino. "C'mon baby... it's time for you to leave la-la land and return to reality."

"I should go with her, Kirsten..."

"You are not leaving this house," Kirsten states emphatically as she steps between Ryan and his mother. Kirsten turns her back on Dawn and looks directly at the anxious boy. "Go to your room, Ryan. I'll handle this."

"Go to your room?" Dawn mimics with a sarcastic laugh. "He ain't five years old, ya know."

Kirsten continues to ignore Dawn and places her hands upon Ryan's shoulders. She squeezes gently and wills him to make eye contact.

Ryan looks at Kirsten and says quietly, "I think it would be easier for everyone if I went with my mom."

"No," Kirsten states. "I need you to go to your room and stay there. I'll handle your mother."

"Are you sure?" Ryan asks.

"I'm positive," Kirsten replies reassuringly. "I've got this."

Ryan takes a quick look at his mother, then returns his attention to Kirsten.

"Okay," Ryan whispers quietly as he reluctantly does as he's told and makes his way up the stairs to his bedroom.

Kirsten closes the front door and turns back around. "Dawn, you need to leave. Now!"

"I ain't goin' anywhere without my kid!" Dawn shouts, not appreciating the woman telling her what to do.

"Ryan is no longer your respons..."

"He's my fuckin' kid!" Dawn interrupts. "And I'm takin' him home!"

"Dawn, when you abandoned Ryan, you lost your parental rights," Kirsten explains, keeping her cool and remaining calm. "While you were living it up in Vegas, Sandy and I became Ryan's legal guardians. We're responsible for him now."

"How the hell do you know I went to Vegas?" Dawn asks, clearly irritated.

"That's none of your business," Kirsten replies. "What you should know is that we have proof you were there. Proof that you chose gambling, drinking and carousing over your own son."

"You're bluffin'."

"Believe what you'd like," Kirsten states, "but you are not getting Ryan back."

Dawn leans in close to Kirsten and presses her finger into the woman's shoulder. "Listen, bitch, I ain't leavin' here without my kid!" Dawn spits out as she attempts to pass Kirsten and enter the home.

"Oh my god, Dawn, is that booze I smell on your breath?" Kirsten asks, still blocking the woman's path to the front door.

"Fuck you, let me through..."

"If you don't leave right this minute, I'm calling the police," Kirsten says as she takes her cell phone out of her pocket.

Dawn looks down at Kirsten's cell phone; the woman's fingers primed to call 911. She knows she can't afford another DUI on her driving record. One more will land her in jail with the possibility of some prison time.

"Fine!" Dawn sneers as she reluctantly retreats and begins walking back to AJ's car. "But you haven't heard the last of me! You can't have Ryan! He's my son, you hear? My son!"

Kirsten shakes her head then presses the speed dial for Sheriff Ray Hicks.

 _"Sheriff Hicks here."_

"Sheriff, it's Kirsten Cohen."

 _"Yes, Mrs. Cohen, what can I do for you?"_

"I was wondering if there's a squad car in my neighborhood," Kirsten explains. "Ryan's mother dropped by unannounced but I think she may have been drinking. She's just leaving my home and, to be honest, and don't think she should be driving."

 _"Well, it just so happens that I'm a couple of minutes from your place. What's the model and color of Mrs. Atwood's car?"_

"It's a dark blue, older model Chevy Impala," Kirsten replies, wondering how the car is staying in one piece with all the blotches of rust covering it.

 _"I'm on my way."_

"Thank you," Kirsten says as she ends her call then proceeds to call the front gate. "Nick, it's Kirsten Cohen."

 _"Yes, Mrs. Cohen, is everything alright?"_

"I need you to do me a favor," Kirsten says. "The woman you allowed in has been drinking. She just drove away and Sheriff Hicks is on his way over. I need you to stall her and not let her leave, for her safety as well as others."

 _"Um, sure, I can stall her. In fact, I believe this front gate has suddenly started acting up. It just doesn't seem to want to open. Guess I'll have to open the gate manually. Could take awhile."_

Kirsten smiles. "Thank you, Nick."

 _"Hey, I see the sheriff's squad car coming with the lights on and that woman, Theresa, is approaching the front gate. Good timing."_

"Nick, that woman's name isn't Theresa. Her name is Dawn Atwood and she is never to be allowed through the front gate ever again," Kirsten explains. "If she does show up, you are to call the police."

 _"Oh no, I'm so sorry, Mrs. Cohen. Please don't tell my supervisor that I didn't check for ID. She seemed so nice. I promise it'll never happen again."_

"I won't say anything... this time," Kirsten states. "But, please always check ID's. Just because someone seems 'nice' doesn't automatically mean they are nice."

 _"Got it. Thank you, Mrs. Cohen."_

"Nick, what's happening out there?" Kirsten asks. "I hear some commotion."

 _"Oh wow, well... the sheriff is arresting the woman, Dawn what's-her-name. Oh my, can she ever talk a blue streak. She is not a happy camper. Holy crap, she just tried to kick the sheriff! He's slapping the cuffs on her now and reading her rights. Oh my lord, she is really spitting nails."_

"Excellent," Kirsten says, unable to stifle her grin. "You should probably call a towing service to have her car removed."

 _"Will do. Um... so should I take Theresa off your guest list?"_

"Oh no, Theresa is welcome here," Kirsten says. "And just so you know, her full name is Theresa Diaz and she is sixteen years old."

 _"Got it! Theresa yes. Dawn no. And from this moment on, I will always check for ID."_

"Sounds good, Nick," Kirsten says as she ends her call and steps back inside the house.

"So, where's Theresa?" Seth asks as he scurries into the front foyer, eager to meet Ryan's friend.

"She's not here," Kirsten replies.

"I don't understand..."

"It wasn't Theresa at the front door. It was Ryan's mother, Dawn," Kirsten explains.

"Ugh. Was she anything like the way Dad described her?" Seth asks, remembering Sandy explaining to them in private the first time he met Dawn.

"Oh... I'm afraid yes," Kirsten says.

"Ryan must be upset," Seth states. "I should go and talk to him..."

"Seth, leave Ryan alone," Kirsten says. "You need to give him some space right now."

"But Mom..."

"I do need you to do me a favor, though."

"Okay, what is it?"

"I need you to call your father," Kirsten says. "If he doesn't answer, leave him a message on his cell phone."

"You don't want me to call the emergency number?" Seth asks.

"No, I've taken care of Dawn," Kirsten replies. "She's gone... at least for the time being."

"Okay, what do you want me to tell him?"

"Tell him he needs to call me before he leaves the courthouse today," Kirsten says. "Make sure you stress the importance. It's imperative he calls me before he leaves the courthouse."

"Alright, got it," Seth says. "But, can I ask why?"

"Because your father needs to get a restraining order against Dawn," Kirsten explains. "And he needs to do it by the end of the day."

Kirsten watches her son scurry off into the kitchen to make his phone call, then begins ascending the spiral staircase. As she walks down the hallway towards Ryan's bedroom, Kirsten wonders what the boy could be thinking; what he could be feeling.

 _Responsible,_ Kirsten thinks to herself as she stops in the hallway outside Ryan's bedroom. _That boy is probably feeling responsible for his mother's reprehensible behavior._

Kirsten notices the door is slightly ajar so she knocks gently and peeks inside. "Ryan? It's Kirsten."

Kirsten enters Ryan's bedroom and sees him struggling to zip up his gray hoodie. She notices the boy has changed into the clothing he had on when she first met him; his new clothes neatly folded and placed on top of the dresser.

"Ryan, what are you doing?" Kirsten asks.

"I should go... my mom needs me," Ryan says as he continues to struggle with his zipper. "I really should just leave."

"No, you are not leaving here," Kirsten states as she quickly makes her way over to Ryan. Kirsten gently places her hands upon Ryan's, noting how much he's trembling.

"Come over here," Kirsten says as she steers the boy over to the bed. "Sit down. Let's talk about this."

Kirsten observes the distraught boy. She knows now her instincts were right.

 _He's blaming himself,_ Kirsten thinks to herself. _He does feel responsible..._

"Ryan, your mother has left," Kirsten says in a gentle tone of voice. "She can't hurt you..."

"You don't understand," Ryan interrupts. "She'll just keep coming back here... she's not going to let me go."

"Ryan, when your mother abandoned you, she lost her parental rights," Kirsten says. "Sandy and I are your legal guardians now. We are committed to keeping you safe and giving you a loving home."

Ryan lowers his head and sighs. "It's not fair to you and Sandy... or to Seth," Ryan says quietly. "She's just going to make your lives miserable. I know."

"You are not responsible for your mother."

Kirsten hears nothing but silence. She knows Ryan is beating himself up over something that he has no control over. Her heart sinks. She longs to take the boy's pain away.

"You know, some people believe that some things happen for a reason," Kirsten says, watching the boy struggle to keep a lid on his emotions. "Did Sandy ever tell you about how he became your public defender?"

Ryan glances at Kirsten and shakes his head "no".

"Sandy wasn't originally assigned your case," Kirsten says, taking advantage of the boy's attention.

"Really? I don't understand..."

"Another public defender from Sandy's office, George O'Reilly, was assigned your case."

"What happened?" Ryan asks as he sits up a little straighter on the bed, wanting to hear more.

"The day before George was supposed to meet with you at juvie, he suffered a heart attack," Kirsten explains. "So, of course, all of his cases needed to be distributed to the other lawyers in the office. Sandy ended up with your case."

"Did he... Mr. O'Reilly... did he die?" Ryan asks.

"No, he didn't die," Kirsten replies with a warm smile, appreciating the boy's concern for a man he's never met. "In fact, George is over at Hoag right now recovering from bypass surgery. His prognosis is good."

Ryan sits quietly for a moment, absorbing what he's just heard.

"I remember Sandy stayed up late reading through the extra case files he had to handle at the last minute," Kirsten continues. "When he finally came to bed, I was still awake. He told me one of the cases caught his eye. A case of a teenage boy doing something... oh, how did he put it... doing something really stupid."

Ryan recalls when he first met Sandy. The lawyer read through his case file, seemingly with interest, and explained how he was going to help. Ryan remained skeptical.

"Yeah, he told me what I did was stupid," Ryan acknowledges.

"We all do stupid things sometimes... we all make mistakes," Kirsten says. "What's important is that we learn from them and not make the same mistake twice."

Ryan smiles at Kirsten. "I don't think I'll ever try to steal another car."

"I know you won't," Kirsten says, returning the smile. "You're too smart for that."

 _And I won't prejudge a person ever again,_ Kirsten thinks to herself _. I'll always make the effort to get to know the person first._

"Ryan, may I ask you something?"

"Um... sure," Ryan replies.

"That day... when your mother told you to leave, why did you call Sandy?"

Ryan ponders the question for a moment then replies, "I didn't have anywhere to go."

"You called your friends," Kirsten says, placing her hand gently upon the boy's back.

"Yeah... they, well... they were all busy..."

"And you knew Theresa was out-of-town."

"Yeah," Ryan acknowledges as he lowers his head. He tried calling everyone he knew, but no one would help...

"So you called Sandy," Kirsten states, smiling warmly as she gently caresses the boy's back.

Ryan thinks back to when he called Sandy. He was physically and emotionally numb from being beaten by AJ and thrown out of the house by his mother. He was desperate. He knew if he was out after curfew, a cop would just scoop him up and bring him back home. And home to him was nothing but a nightmare.

"Ryan, when you called Sandy, I believe you did the hardest thing you've ever had to do," Kirsten says as she continues to caress the boy's back with her hand.

Ryan blinks away an errant tear and looks at Kirsten. "What was that?"

Kirsten takes Ryan's hand into hers, looks into the boy's soulful eyes and replies with a heartfelt smile...

"You had to trust someone."


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.

 **A/N:** This story is  AU and begins after Luke carries Ryan out of the burning building.

 **A lot of readers expressed confusion over Sandy receiving Ryan's case in the evening. I didn't realize that a public defender would have gotten the case first thing the next day. I've never been arrested (and don't ever plan to be) and really am not all that familiar with how the system works. I thought Ryan was in juvie for at least a day before he saw Sandy. My mistake! :-)**

 **Thank you for all the feedback and support. I really appreciate it!**

Chapter Sixteen

"Hey! You can't keep me here! I got rights, ya know!"

Sheriff Ray Hicks lets out a long, agonizing groan. He's getting too old for this. He rubs his temples with his thumbs then runs his fingers through his thinning hair. He feels a migraine coming on. He pulls open the top drawer of the desk and takes out a bottle of aspirin. He opens the bottle and taps out a couple of tablets into his hand. He then taps out a couple of more, just for good luck. He's going to need it.

"I get a phone call! I got rights!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah... everybody's got their rights."

Ray tosses back the aspirin and washes them down with the rest of his cold coffee. He then gingerly stands up and makes his way over to the holding cell.

"I got rights!" Dawn spits out in anger. "When do I get to make my phone call?"

"Well, today's your lucky day," Ray replies, trying to sound sympathetic but failing miserably. He just can't seem to rein in his sarcasm. "It just so happens that we here, at the police station, have a phone."

"That's good, 'cuz I gotta make a call," Dawn says, beginning to calm down a bit now that she's getting some attention.

Ray opens the cell door and escorts the frazzled woman over to a table. He sits her down, then takes the phone off his desk and places it on the table in front of Dawn.

"Make your call," Ray says, using his tall, lanky frame to hover over her. "And if I may offer a little advice? Make it count."

Dawn looks up at the sheriff and sneers. She doesn't like the man. Not one bit. She wishes now she had kicked him harder when she had the chance.

Ray folds his arms across his chest and snickers quietly to himself. He knows he's getting on the woman's nerves and he's enjoying every minute of it. It also makes the fresh bruise on his right shin feel less painful.

Dawn picks up the receiver and punches in the number of the one person she knows for sure will help her.

 _"Yeah?"_

"Geeze, is that how you answer the phone?" Dawn asks.

 _"Who is this?"_

"What do you mean 'who is this?'. It's Dawn!"

 _"Where the hell are you? I let you borrow my car this mornin' thinkin' you'd be back by now. I got a drinkin' date with some buddies."_

"I'm in a bit of a bind," Dawn says, sounding needy. "I got arrested..."

 _"Arrested! What the... where's my car! You better not have fucked up my car!"_

"Oh, for Christ's sake AJ, your car is fine... well, at least I think it's fine," Dawn says. "It's probably at the impound lot."

 _"Great! Just great! I should've never let you..."_

"I need you to come to the police station and bail me out," Dawn interrupts. "Can you get one of your buddies to give you a lift over here?"

Dawn scowls when she hears a loud burst of laughter on the other end of the line.

"What's so funny?" Dawn asks, clearly annoyed.

 _"You. You're funny. You want me to come bail you out?"_

"Yeah. C'mon AJ, ya gotta help me out here."

 _"Hmmm... I seem to remember havin' to spend last weekend in jail. Nobody came to bail me out..."_

"This is different..."

 _"Then I get out and find you've taken off. And to Vegas, of all places. Geeze, woman, you've got a hellava lot of nerve askin' me for a favor."_

"C'mon, AJ," Dawn pleads.

 _"You know what, Dawn? I think you should spend a few days in the slammer. Builds character and all."_

"What? Are you serious? I don't got the money to make bail. I'll have to stay here until..."

 _"click"_

Dawn stares at the phone receiver in disbelief. She can't believe AJ just hung up on her.

"Wow, I must say this is a first. I've been in law enforcement a long time and never have I seen someone make their one, legal god-given right-of-a phone call only to get hung up on," Ray says, unable to hold back a chuckle.

"Oh, shut up!" Dawn yells as she hurls the telephone receiver in the direction of the sheriff, sending the rest of the phone crashing to the floor.

"Wow, you just don't know when to quit!" Ray exclaims as he grabs Dawn's upper arm and steers her back to the holding cell.

"Ouch! Let go of me!" Dawn spits out, trying to wrestle out of the man's firm grip. "This is police brutality. I'm gonna sue!"

"Go right ahead," Ray states as he closes and locks the cell door. "But now you've just added one more charge to your already long list. Let's see... there's driving under the influence, resisting arrest, assaulting a police officer and now, destroying police property."

"Oh your phone is fine," Dawn huffs, folding her arms in front of herself as she sits down on the hard bench.

"My phone is busted," Ray says. "And now, because of your little hissy fit, I have more paperwork to fill out..."

"I'm here boss."

Ray turns around and sees one of his young deputies enter the station. "Impeccable timing, Tom."

"Having a good evening I take it?" Tom asks, looking around the room. "What happened to the phone?"

"Temper tantrum," Ray replies, nodding towards the holding cell. "Do you think you can fix it?"

"Sure, these things are built to withstand an angry gorilla."

"Well, I'd like nothing more than to put our guest of honor in a cell with a four hundred pound angry gorilla," Ray says, looking over at Dawn sulking on the bench. "But that wouldn't be very kind to the gorilla."

"You always were the animal lover," Tom says with a smile as he picks the phone up off the floor along with a few stray parts.

"There's only two things I really can't tolerate in this world," Ray says as he grabs his jacket and sheriff's hat. "Animal cruelty and child abuse."

"I'm with you on that."

"I'm heading out to the accident site," Ray says. "Four squad cars have already been dispatched. I appreciate you coming in. You'll be on your own for a few hours."

"No problem. What's the latest on the accident?" Tom asks as he makes a fresh pot of coffee.

"Double semi trailer truck jack-knifed on southbound 55," Ray replies. "They're airlifting the most seriously injured to Hoag."

"Damn, I wish those things were illegal," Tom says, taking a seat at the desk.

"Well, it's not going to happen. Trucking is big business," Ray says as he begins to take his leave. "Oh, just one more thing..."

Tom looks up at Ray Hicks, interested to know what more the sheriff has to offer.

"The aspirin is in the top drawer," Ray says. "I think you're going to need it."

* * *

Kirsten pours herself a glass of Merlot. She opened the bottle at dinner thinking Sandy would be home to share it with her. But he called around seven to tell her he was delayed due to a horrible traffic accident and he had witnessed it. He had to stay and give his statement but he wouldn't have been able to leave anyways. The highway was closed until the injured were transported and the workers could clear the debris from a lane so traffic could pass through safely.

Kirsten takes a small sip of the wine and quietly gives thanks that her husband was a witness and not one of the injured. She also gives thanks for the invention of cell phones; that her husband was able to call her to let her know he would be late. She was disappointed, of course, but relieved he was alright.

Kirsten slowly meanders into the family room as she continues to sip her wine. She had ordered the boys a pizza for dinner. Ryan ate... which meant he was hungry... and that was a good thing. Ryan wasn't very talkative though, but that was nothing unusual.

After dinner, the boys watched a movie. Seth chose the evening's entertainment. A movie that consisted of actors dressed up in strange costumes, over-stylized fight sequences and lots of explosions. Kirsten would peek in on them occasionally and would notice Ryan slumped on the couch nodding off every now and then. The random explosion on the TV would always jostle the boy awake.

When the movie was over, Ryan politely excused himself and retired to his bedroom. She knows the boy hasn't had a good night's sleep all week.

 _He must be exhausted..._

Kirsten hears the garage door open and let's out a sigh of relief. She walks back to the kitchen and takes out another wine glass from the cupboard.

"Hi, sweetheart," Sandy says with a weary voice as he enters the kitchen.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're home," Kirsten says, giving her husband a warm hug.

"Me too," Sandy says, returning his wife's embrace. Sandy shrugs off his suit jacket, places it over one of the breakfast bar stools and loosens his tie. "Ah, the Kendall-Jackson Merlot Grand Reserve."

Kirsten smiles and pours her husband a glass of wine.

"I know your father gave us a case of this wine for our anniversary," Sandy says as he takes a welcome sip. "Caleb's not really one of my favorite people in the world but, I'll have to admit, the man does have excellent taste in wine."

"Were you able to get a restraining order?" Kirsten asks, feeling herself starting to relax now that her husband is home.

"Yes, I did," Sandy replies. "Not only is Dawn not allowed within 100 yards of Ryan, she's also not allowed to step foot on our property."

"Thank god," Kirsten sighs in relief.

"I'm so sorry you had to deal with her," Sandy says. "I saw Sheriff Hicks at the crash site. He told me Dawn may be facing some prison time so she'll be able to get rehab and counseling courtesy of the California taxpayer."

"I feel so bad for Ryan," Kirsten says quietly.

"I know, so do I," Sandy says. "It's hard enough on the kid having a father and a brother in prison. But, now his mother?"

"We'll help him through this," Kirsten states, taking the last sip of her wine.

"Come here," Sandy says, setting his wine glass down on the breakfast bar.

Kirsten walks over to Sandy and rests her head against his shoulder, welcoming her husband's warm embrace.

"I love you, you know," Sandy whispers affectionately in his wife's ear.

"I love you, too."

Sandy smiles as a feeling of contentment washes over him. He places a kiss on top of Kirsten's head, relishing this quiet moment with his wife after a long, hard day.

"I'm going to check on Ryan," Sandy says. "Then I'm going to treat myself to another glass of wine. Maybe you'll join me?"

"I can't think of anything I'd like more," Kirsten says with a smile. "Oh, before I forget, Ryan's cell phone arrived today. I went ahead and put in our cell numbers for him."

"I'll give it to him," Sandy says, placing the phone in his pocket. He knows they'll all feel better knowing Ryan has a cell phone.

Kirsten watches her husband leave the kitchen and feels relief that everyone is home safe and sound. Then her thoughts drift to Ryan. She knows the boy is safe now...

 _But is he sound?_

* * *

 _Ryan stands in the kitchen staring at a bottle of red wine left open on the counter. Behind him, he hears his mother's shrill voice; her vindictive words jarring and berating. Ryan spins around and, in anger, hurls the bottle of wine at his mother. He misses and the bottle hits the wall and shatters into pieces, spewing red wine everywhere. He walks through the broken glass in his bare feet... the sharp, jagged shards piercing his soles, leaving a trail of blood behind him. He feels cold and trembles as an unsettling chill fills the air. He slowly peels off his sweat-soaked t-shirt, revealing a back covered in red welts from being whipped with a thick leather belt..._

 _"What the hell happened to your back?"_

 _Ryan doesn't answer._

 _"Did your lawyer, Sandy what's-his-name, do that to you?"_

 _He ignores her._

 _Ryan takes his damp shirt and begins wiping down the wall. As he continues wiping the wall, it slowly turns into a large pane of glass. He painstakingly tries to clean the glass using a circular motion; rubbing over and over and over but the wine stains remain, becoming thicker... stickier... until he realizes it's blood... the viscous fluid smearing the glass... he can't clean it off... he can't get rid of it._

 _Ryan slowly turns his head and sees his mother with blood oozing from her nose and eyes... the thick, crimson fluid slowly trickling down her mascara-streaked cheeks and dripping from the ends of her disheveled blond hair._

 _Then he hears her laughing..._

Ryan moans then gasps as he opens his eyes. He grits his teeth against the pain from his bruised ribs as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. He takes in a deep breath, then reaches over to turn on the table lamp next to the bed. Perspiration beads on his forehead as he continues to concentrate on his breathing; trying to slow his rapid heartbeat; hoping to calm himself down.

 _I was just dreaming..._

Ryan notices his bedroom door slowly opening. A wave of anxiety courses through him as he instinctively pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms tightly around his legs. Someone entering his bedroom at night was never a good thing.

 _Maybe I'm still dreaming..._

Ryan quickly rubs his tired eyes and continues to vigilantly watch the door... still slowly opening... listening to the faint creaking sound... He blinks a few times then swallows the lump in his throat as a feeling of dread begins to consume him.

"Ryan?" Sandy asks, peeking into the bedroom.

Ryan immediately begins to relax when he hears Sandy's voice.

"I noticed your light was on. I just wanted to check on you... make sure you're alright."

Ryan straightens his legs and sits up a little straighter in bed. "I'm alright," Ryan says with a slightly shakey voice. He knows he doesn't sound very convincing.

Sandy closes the bedroom door and makes his way over to the bed. He sits down on the edge of the bed and studies Ryan; the soft, dim light from the table lamp illuminating the boy's pale complexion and perspiration on his forehead.

"Bad dream?" Sandy asks.

Ryan turns away for a moment then looks back at Sandy and shrugs. "It was nothing..."

"Dreams are always something, especially the ones we remember," Sandy says, knowing the boy is going to try his best to downplay the situation. "Can you tell me what it was about?"

"I don't know..." Ryan says, lowering his head. He doesn't want to dredge up anything. It was just a dream. "I think I spent too much time watching Seth wash windows today."

"Ah, I see," Sandy says. "And did this dream of washing windows happen to include your mother?"

Ryan lets out a long sigh. "Yeah..."

"It's alright, Ryan..."

"Kirsten shouldn't have to deal with my mom," Ryan interrupts, looking directly at Sandy.

"Why not?" Sandy asks. "Kirsten is an adult. She's the parent and she's more than capable of handling your mother."

"My mom is a train wreck. I should help her," Ryan states.

"Your mother needs to help herself," Sandy says. "She is not your responsibility."

Ryan lowers his head and stares down at his lap. He feels his eyes begin to well up with tears. He blinks a few times, then tries to descreetly wipe them away.

"Your mother needs help, but it's up to her to get help," Sandy says with a gentle tone of voice. "She needs to want to get better, otherwise you'll just continue in this vicious cycle where your mother goes into rehab, gets out and then starts drinking again. She not only places herself in danger but she places you in danger too."

"I love my mom," Ryan says, almost in a whisper.

"I know you do..." Sandy acknowledges as he places his hand upon the boy's slumped shoulder.

"But..."

"But what?" Sandy asks.

"But I don't like her."

"It's alright. You don't have to like your mother," Sandy says, trying his best to reassure the boy. "There is no law that says you have to like your parents."

Ryan fiddles with the edge of the blanket and sighs. "Sometimes I think... sometimes I..." Ryan sighs again. He's not used to saying what's on his mind. It's so much easier to keep things locked up inside. Just throw away the key and try to forget. But the hard part is forgetting...

"Sometimes I think I hate her."

Sandy feels his heart sink as he listens to the boy struggle with his feelings.

Ryan looks up at Sandy, hoping the man can alleviate his anguish. "But I don't want to hate my mom."

"I know you don't," Sandy says as he watches Ryan lower his head back down again. "But your feelings are real and it's good that you're acknowledging them."

"Can a person love and hate someone at the same time?" Ryan asks, looking back up at Sandy, desperate to come to terms with what he's feeling.

"I... I don't have the answer to that," Sandy says solemnly. "I wish I did."

Sandy gives Ryan's shoulder a gentle squeeze and looks into the boy's soulful eyes. "One thing I do know is that Kirsten and I never want you to stop loving your mother."

"When my mom is sober... she's like... like a normal mom," Ryan says as he begins to find it easier to say what's on his mind. "But when she drinks..."

Sandy waits a few moments as silence fills the room. He knows the boy is struggling with his past... a past Sandy wishes he could erase.

"I wish I could be more like Trey."

"Why is that?" Sandy asks.

"He doesn't seem to care... nothing seems to bother him..."

"Ah, but you're wrong," Sandy says as he gently caresses the boy's shoulder. "Trey is angry and full of resentment. It might appear as if things don't bother him, but they do. Otherwise, he'd have no emotion at all when it comes to your mother and father..."

"My dad used to beat her so badly," Ryan says quietly. "Then he'd turn on Trey and eventually..." Ryan sighs as he leans his head back against the headboard and looks up at the ceiling. "Eventually he turned on me..."

"Ryan, I can't change what has happened in your past," Sandy says in a gentle tone of voice. "But what I do know is that Kirsten and I want to give you a chance at a future. Your mother is unable to be a responsible parent right now. She cannot keep you safe. She's proven this over and over..."

"I know but... I wish I didn't feel like I'm abandoning her."

Sandy sighs quietly to himself. If anyone should feel guilty about abandoning someone, it's Dawn. But he knows he can't say that to the boy. He won't vilify the woman. She's his mother.

"I never want you to stop caring, Ryan. It's one of the things that make you 'you'," Sandy says. "But it's alright to put yourself first every once in awhile. And right now, you need to put yourself and your needs first."

Ryan glances at Sandy and offers a small smile. He appreciates the man's thoughtful words.

"Kirsten and I are taking our responsibility as your legal guardians very seriously," Sandy continues, giving the boy's shoulder another gentle squeeze. "We want very much to give you a home where you feel safe and cared for, and maybe someday you'll even think of us as family. We want to give you a chance at a better life. How about you give us a chance too."

Ryan bites his lower lip as he thinks about everything Sandy has told him, not just this evening but the entire week.

"Do we have a deal?" Sandy asks.

Ryan smiles at Sandy as a flood of contentment wells up inside him. "Deal," Ryan replies earnestly.

"Good," Sandy says with a wide grin, knowing he's finally getting through to the boy. Sandy notices Ryan yawning. He looks at the alarm clock on the side table and sees it's getting close to eleven.

"You need to get some sleep," Sandy says.

Ryan yawns again and nods his head in agreement. He slowly scoots himself down into the bed and rests his weary head on the soft, plump pillow.

"Oh, before I forget, I got you a cell phone," Sandy says, taking the phone from his pocket. "Kirsten and I will feel much better knowing you have a..."

Sandy stops talking when he notices the boy's eyes are closed; his breathing relaxed and even. He's sound asleep. Sandy smiles.

"I'll just put this in the drawer and you can toy around with it tomorrow," Sandy says quietly.

Sandy open the side table drawer and places the cell phone on top of Ryan's book. A small, white object in the corner of the drawer catches Sandy's eye.

 _The sugar cube,_ Sandy thinks to himself as he picks it up and holds it between his fingers. _He kept it. He made a wish and he kept it._

Sandy places the cube of sugar back exactly where he found it and quietly closes the drawer. He stands up then glances down at the sleeping boy. He pulls the blanket up over Ryan's shoulders and smiles.

"Please believe this, kid," Sandy whispers as he begins to take his leave. "Kirsten and I want all of your dreams to come true."

* * *

Kirsten steps out onto the patio and sees Sandy standing poolside, sipping his wine. She then notices him looking up at the night sky.

"Penny for your thoughts," Kirsten says as she ties the sash of her cream-colored silk robe and joins her husband.

"Another amazing night sky," Sandy says, placing his arm around his wife's shoulders.

"How was Ryan?" Kirsten asks, leaning into her husband's comforting embrace.

"Well, we had a long talk," Sandy replies. "He's upset about his mother, of course."

"Hopefully she'll be out of the picture for awhile," Kirsten says. "Ryan needs time to adjust here. He doesn't need his mother showing up and undoing everything he's trying to accomplish. All she does is upset the boy."

"I agree," Sandy says, gently squeezing his wife's shoulders.

Kirsten looks up at the night sky and sighs. "I remember when I was little my mother and I would lay out in the backyard and gaze up at the stars. It was our special time together."

"Where was Hailey?" Sandy asks.

"She wasn't born yet," Kirsten replies. "I think I was maybe five or six. My mother would tell me to choose a star and make a wish."

Sandy smiles as he takes another sip of his wine while listening to his wife's fond memory.

"Was there a wish you recall making?" Sandy asks.

"I remember one time, when my mom told me she was pregnant, I wished for a baby brother," Kirsten says with a slight chuckle. "I guess you can't win them all."

"If you picked a star and made a wish now, what would you wish for?" Sandy asks.

Kirsten studies the sparkling stars. She wants to make the right choice. It must be the perfect star. "That one," Kirsten says, pointing up at the sky. "I'll make a wish on that bright star just to the right of the moon."

"Ah, that's a fine star," Sandy says with a smile. He knows that was the star Ryan chose. "Tell me your wish."

Kirsten smiles contently and rests her head against her husband's chest. "I wish that someday Ryan will trust us to keep him safe and will come to think of this house as his home."

"That's a perfect wish," Sandy whispers into his wife's ear.

"And how about you? What's your wish?" Kirsten asks.

Sandy gazes up at the bright star in the night sky and smiles. "I wish that someday, Ryan will consider us his family."

"I wish that too," Kirsten says. "Ryan will be a part of our family. He is a part of our family."

Sandy smiles and looks over at Kirsten. "We have the perfect family... you, me, Seth... and Ryan."


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.

 **A/N:** This story is  AU and begins after Luke carries Ryan out of the burning building.

 **I started writing this "one-shot" over a year and a half ago. I've had this ending outlined since June 2017. Back then, I thought I could stretch this story out to three chapters. I think I've accomplished that. ;-)**

 **I know many readers would like this story to continue and I take that as the highest compliment. :-) I've added a note at the end of this story. Please let me know your thoughts.**

 **Thank you for all the feedback and support. I really appreciate it!**

Chapter Seventeen

Ryan opens his eyes and blinks a few times. He turns his head and looks at the pale sunlight shining through a crack in the bedroom curtains. He gingerly sits up in bed then wipes the sleep from his eyes.

 _How long have I been asleep?_ Ryan asks himself as he glances over at the alarm clock and sees it's 7am.

Ryan slowly swings his legs over the edge of the bed and runs his hands through his hair. The last thing he remembers was talking to Sandy.

 _That was 11pm... I fell asleep. I've been asleep for eight hours._

Ryan doesn't recall the last time he got a straight eight hours of sleep. No dreams or nightmares... just pure, uninterrupted sleep. He can't believe how rested he feels.

Ryan makes his way over to the dresser and takes out some clothes. He sheds his sleep pants and puts on a pair of blue jeans. He then carefully puts on his gray hoodie, threading his arms through the armholes and easing his bandaged hand through the cuff. Ryan sits back down on the bed and puts on his shoes, noting it's still a chore to tie them, but no longer painful.

 _I'm healing..._

Ryan stands back up and walks over to the bedroom door. He slowly opens the door, trying to be as quiet as possible. He figures he's the first one up. He doesn't want to wake anyone.

Ryan quietly creeps down the spiral staircase. He makes his way through the house using the pale, morning sunlight to guide his way. He begins to open the patio door, then abruptly stops when he senses someone watching him.

"Where are you going?"

Ryan turns around and sees Seth clad in his gray and white checkered pajamas and a powder blue robe.

"For a walk?" Ryan replies, using his thumb to point towards the outside.

"A walk? Where? I mean, you're not trying to run away again... are you?"

Ryan notices the panicked look on his friend's face and sighs. "No Seth, I'm not running away. I'm just going for a walk."

"But why?" Seth asks, taking a step closer to Ryan.

"I've been sitting around the house all week," Ryan explains. "The doctor said I could take walks, just not do anything strenuous."

"Walking can be strenuous," Seth points out.

"Maybe... if we were living in the mountains," Ryan replies dryly.

"Okay, good point," Seth states, pointing his finger at nothing in particular as he acknowledges the fact. "But, I can't come with you. I'm grounded, remember? I can't leave the house."

"I'm just going to walk down to the beach..."

"Why don't you just walk around the house fifty times. Then I could join you," Seth offers, trying his hand at being a salesman, although he's not sure Ryan is buying it. "Or maybe wait until Mom and Dad are up. They might make an exception and let me go with you. We could go after lunch maybe."

Ryan sighs. He understands his friend's frustration but he really just wants this time to be alone and think.

"I want to take a walk so I can clear my mind. It's still cool outside. If I wait until this afternoon, it'll be too hot," Ryan says, hoping Seth will understand. "I won't be that long, maybe an hour or two. I'll be back in time for breakfast."

"Okay, but what should I tell Mom and Dad if they get up and you're not here?" Seth asks.

Ryan looks at Seth, slightly confused. "Tell them I went for a walk," Ryan replies, not quite understanding the dilemma.

"A walk."

"Yes, a walk," Ryan reiterates as he steps out onto the patio. "I'll be back in a couple of hours."

Ryan closes the patio door. He looks through the glass and sees Seth standing still, looking dejected... probably feeling like he's being abandoned.

 _I'm not abandoning him,_ Ryan tells himself as he walks around the side of the house and down the driveway. Ryan breathes in the fresh morning air and remembers what Sandy told him just last night.

 _"It's alright to put yourself first every once in awhile... and right now, you need to put yourself and your needs first."_

Ryan shoves his fists into the pockets of his hoodie and continues his walk. It feels good to move around. He keeps his head lowered and watches the ground as he places one foot in front of the other; the repetition of his steps pleasantly calming. He smiles briefly as a feeling of contentment washes over him.

 _I'm still here..._ Ryan thinks to himself. _And the Cohen's do seem to care about me..._

Before he knows it, Ryan arrives at the beach. He looks out across the vast ocean and takes in a deep breath. He spots a flock of seagulls flying near the shore and wonders what it would be like to be able to fly like a bird.

"Hey, Atwood!"

Ryan jumps slightly then turns around. He sees Luke Ward approaching him clad in a bright orange vest, the kind highway workers wear, and carting a large garbage bag while holding a long stick with a prong on its end.

"Luke... hey," Ryan says tentatively, keeping his fists balled up inside his pockets... just in case he needs them.

"What are you doing out here?" Luke asks, trying his best to make small talk.

"Taking a walk," Ryan replies, feeling he's beginning to sound like a broken record.

"That's cool," Luke says. "Say... um... I'm glad I ran into you."

Ryan looks at Luke with skepticism. He's not quite sure where this conversation is going.

"I want to apologize..."

"You already apologized," Ryan interrupts. "I got your letter."

"Oh that... pfft," Luke says, swiping his hand through the air. "I had to write that letter. It was part of my plea agreement."

"Oh, I see..."

"Not that I didn't mean what I wrote," Luke continues, wanting to clarify his remarks. "It's just that... I am really sorry. I wanted to tell you that in person. I don't ever expect you to forgive me, but I just wanted you to know." Luke lowers his head, then glances back at Ryan. "I really am sorry. I was a total jerk."

"Yeah, you were," Ryan states.

Luke squints his eyes and flashes Ryan a mild glare then chuckles softly. "Yep, I deserved that."

An uncomfortable silence fills the air as the two boys struggle for something to say. Ryan finally decides to break the silence.

"I accept your apology," Ryan says earnestly. "Both of them."

Luke flashes Ryan a look of confusion. That was the last thing he expected to hear.

"Ward! This isn't a vacation! Get back to work!"

"Yeah, yeah I'm workin'!" Luke yells back at the man who's in charge of his community service.

Ryan winces slightly. The last thing he wants is to get Luke into trouble.

"That asshole's a frickin' slave driver," Luke says as he stabs a gum wrapper and places it into his garbage bag.

"I should probably let you get back..."

"I fucked up," Luke interrupts. "Fucked up my life..."

"No you didn't," Ryan says.

"I got kicked out of Harbor, my girlfriend broke up with me..." Luke lets out a long sigh. "And the two guys I thought were my friends turned out not to be my friends at all."

"It's not the end of the world," Ryan says, wincing at how cliched he sounds, but it's all he can think of to say at the moment.

"Plus, I'm on probation. One more screw up and I'm looking at doing some serious time." Luke looks directly at Ryan and lets out a short chuckle. "Guess we have something in common now, huh? Both on probation..."

"Just stay out of trouble and you'll be fine," Ryan offers earnestly.

"I get to pick up garbage for my community service. You wouldn't believe the shit people litter the beach with," Luke says as he stabs an empty condom wrapper and puts it in the trash bag. He immediately scans the area, wondering where the contents of said wrapper could be. Most likely lurking somewhere beneath the sand.

"I'll be going to the public school this fall," Luke continues as he strolls along the beach with Ryan, picking up stray pieces of litter. "Do you think they have a water polo team?"

"Umm... I'm not sure..."

"What am I thinking," Luke says, shaking his head. "They don't even have a pool."

"What about soccer?"

"Soccer?"

"Yeah, soccer," Ryan says. "You've played soccer before, haven't you?"

"Yeah, I did in middle school and my freshman year at Harbor," Luke says, recalling how much he enjoyed the sport.

"I bet they could use someone like you," Ryan says, offering encouragement. "And with your experience, maybe you could even become the team captain."

"Yeah... maybe I could," Luke says, his eyes brightening at the prospect. "Say, do you know if you'll be going to Harbor this fall?"

"I don't know," Ryan replies, finding himself relaxing his fists still jammed inside his pockets. He realizes now he's not going to need them. "I haven't really given school much thought."

"Well, you're living with the Cohen's now, aren't you?"

"Umm... yeah... I guess I am," Ryan says, his spoken words helping him realize it's actually true.

"I'm sure they'll want you to go to Harbor," Luke states.

"Well, I am on probation," Ryan points out as he continues to stroll along the beach with Luke. "I may not get accepted."

"True, they do have a strict policy on that but you seem to be smart," Luke says as he and Ryan turn around and start heading back to where they started. "I bet they'll make an exception in your case."

Ryan smiles and shakes his head at the thought. He won't expect miracles. Besides, he would be totally fine going to the public school.

"But, in the off chance you don't get accepted into Harbor this fall... I don't know... maybe... oh, forget it..."

"No, what?" Ryan asks, urging Luke to finish what he wants to say.

"I was just thinking... well... if you do end up having to go to the public school, maybe we could try out for the soccer team together."

Ryan smiles. "I'd like that."

"Ward, this is your last warning! If you don't get your ass back to work, I'm tacking on another twenty hours!"

"Well, the slave driver has spoken," Luke says. "I should get back."

"And I should probably start heading back to the Cohen's," Ryan says, nodding his head in the direction he needs to go. "I don't want them to start worrying about me."

Ryan shakes his head and smiles. Never in a million years did he ever think anyone would worry about him. It's something he thinks he can get used to.

"They're good people... the Cohen's," Luke says.

"Yeah, they are," Ryan acknowledges with a heartfelt smile.

"You know, I really had you pegged all wrong," Luke states earnestly. "You're alright, Atwood."

"You just didn't know me," Ryan says, realizing he's also a bit guilty, having prejudged people just because they're rich. He knows now that not all rich kids are jerks. He also believes in giving people a second chance, just as the Cohen's are doing for him.

"Maybe... well... I thought..." Luke stutters, struggling to find the right words. "Maybe we could... I don't know... hang out sometime?"

"I'd like that," Ryan replies.

"Really?" Luke asks, surprised by Ryan's answer.

"Really," Ryan reiterates. "And maybe also Seth..."

"Seth Cohen? Really? Wow. Okay. I suppose I'm up for the challenge," Luke says before flashing a heartfelt smile. "See you around At... I mean, Ryan."

Ryan watches Luke walk back to his group of orange-vested probationers and smiles. He's happy to give Luke a second chance. In fact, he thinks they may even be able to someday be friends.

Ryan looks out across the vast ocean and takes in another deep breath then begins heading back.

 _I should really get back to the Cohen's,_ Ryan thinks to himself.

Keeping his head lowered, Ryan watches the ground as he places one foot in front of the other; the repetition of his steps pleasantly calming. Ryan smiles as a feeling of contentment washes over him.

 _It's time for me to go home._

-The end-

 **I'm toying with the idea of writing a sequel to this story. It would involve Bob Stankey's trial and its impact on Ryan and also explore Ryan's budding friendship with Luke. Of course, as with the majority of my stories, things would not go smoothly for Ryan. If I can come up with a viable story outline, I'll definitely write it and share. :-)  
**


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